Ulrika paused to listen to the house come to life as slaves addressed their chores, voices called out, the creaky old voice of Erasmus barked orders. She saw the draperies over her windows stir with spring breezes, and she shivered with excitement and pride and newly found purpose. She thought of the people she was going to meet in those magical forests of which she had so often dreamed. And she realized, in surprise, that there was more to her quest, there were more reasons for her hurrying now to her father's homeland—it had to do with her secret sickness, the visions and dreams and knowing things that had frightened her in her childhood and which seemed to have returned. Perhaps that was the reason for the wolf vision the night before, perhaps the answer to her sickness—and the cure—would be found among her father's warrior people, in the misty forests of the far north.
She resumed writing. "I have been without a father for nineteen years. I want to make up for that lost time. And I want to give something back to the man who gave me life. I love you, Mother. You protected me when I was featherless and my nest was fragile. You said that I was a gift from the Goddess, the miracle child that came to you in your lonely exile, and as such you somehow knew that I was never completely yours, that the Goddess would call me someday to a special task. I believe that call is at hand. I believe I am soon to find out where I belong, and in belonging there, will understand who I am.
"Dearest Mother, I will love you and honor you always, and I pray that we are together again someday. And wherever my path takes me, Mother, whatever destiny awaits me, I will keep you in my heart."
She sprinkled dust over the ink, to dry it and set it, and as she rolled the papyrus and sealed the scroll with red wax, a tear fell from her eye onto the paper. She looked at the small water stain as it spread and then stopped, forming a curious little shape that resembled a star.
In the atrium, she found Erasmus overseeing the cleaning of marble birdbaths. Ulrika trusted no one but him to see that her mother got the letter. "Yes yes, mistress," Erasmus said, bobbing his bald head as he tucked the scroll into one of the many secret pockets of his colorful robe. "As soon as the Lady returns, I will give it to her."
As Ulrika carefully put together a traveling pack, her thoughts went round and round. How was she going to get to the far north? Colonia was almost at the top of the world. Should she take slaves or go alone? She briefly considered seeking Aunt Paulina's advice, or that of her best friend. And then she dismissed the notion, knowing that they would try to persuade her from this mission.
Her sturdiest clothes went into the pack, with toilet articles, money, a spare cloak. Then she took things from her mother's medical stores: jars of medicines, bags of herbs, bread mold, bandages, a scalpel, and sutures.
She left the villa without saying good-bye, and walked resolutely to the Forum, where she bought food and a skin of water from the marketplace.
Turning toward the main road that led through the city walls and northward into the countryside, Ulrika walked quickly, praying that the Goddess was with her, praying for the All-Mother to give her the strength to turn her back on the only family she had ever known, the only world—and to face an unknown destiny with courage and conviction.
7
S
EBASTIANUS GALLUS PACED ANXIOUSLY as he awaited word from his personal star-reader. They had to leave Rome today.
The prosperous caravan leader, a broad-shouldered young man with bronze-colored hair and closely cropped beard, paused in front of his tent to observe his old friend.
The fat Greek was seated at a low table in the morning sunshine, bent over charts and star-maps, tools of his astrological trade in his chubby hands. Timonides had served the Gallus family all his life, for as long as Sebastianus could remember, and the wealthy trader never made a move without first consulting with the astrologer. This morning, however, something was wrong and Sebastianus was worried.
Timonides was a man of girth and gusto, having always been robust with never a day of illness. But he had been stricken recently by an affliction that was adversely affecting his ability to cast accurate horoscopes. Sebastianus had taken old Timonides to the best doctors in Rome, but all had shaken their heads and said there was nothing to be done, Timonides was doomed to live in pain for the rest of his life.
As he waited for poor Timonides, gray-faced with agony, to cast the day's horoscope, Sebastianus twisted the large gold bracelet on his right arm and squinted through the haze of a hundred morning campfires. The north-south caravan staging area lay beyond the city walls on the Via Flaminia.
This northern terminus, where Sebastianus Gallus was temporarily headquartered in a small compound of tents, merchandise, and workers, was alive with the hustle and bustle of caravans gathering from all corners of the earth, arriving with new goods or preparing to depart for far-off destinations. In the case of young Gallus, his own caravan, consisting of carriages, wagons, horses, mules, and slaves, was overdue for departure to Germania Inferior at the northern reaches of the Rhine River, where settlements were awaiting fresh shipments of Spanish wine, Egyptian cereal, Italian textiles, and assorted luxuries Sebastianus had picked up from traders who came from Egypt, Africa, and India.
They were to have departed two days ago, but Sebastianus dared not move from his private camp until Timonides said the stars had given permission. Sebastianus devoutly believed that the gods revealed their messages through the heavens and that a man needed only observe the celestial writing in stars, planets, moon, and comets to know which path he must take. But he had not anticipated his star-reader to be crippled by a mysterious ailment, leaving Gallus to watch helplessly as other merchants and traders called to their men to pull up stakes and strike off for the north, east, or west.
"Over here, miss! That man will cheat you whereas I am an honest man! I will take you anywhere you wish to go!"
Sebastianus turned in the direction of the barked words, recognizing the trumpet voice of Hashim al Adnan, a dark-skinned Arab who made a small fortune carrying Egyptian papyrus to book manufacturers in the north. He stood beneath the striped awning of his own tent, and appeared to be trying to steal a customer from a fellow caravan leader, a barrel-chested Syrian named Kaptah the Ninth (as he was the ninth of fifteen children). Kaptah was surrounded by amphorae filled with olive oil, ready to go north into alpine settlements, and he made a rude gesture at Hashim. Then he turned to the potential customer and said, "That man is a pig, dear lady. He will rob you blind and leave you in the mountains for the ravens to peck your eyes out. I am the most honest man around, ask anyone."
Trade caravans accepted independent travelers as long as they paid well and could take care of themselves. The protection of large caravans was the safest way to travel, whether on business or to visit relatives or just casual tourism. Sebastianus himself had that morning accepted a group of brothers heading to Masilia to attend a wedding. They had their own carriage and were paying handsomely for the safe escort.
Sebastianus studied the object of the competition between Arab and Syrian—a woman. Young, he deduced, from her slender body and bearing. And judging by the rich fabric of her dress, and the palla draped over her head, wealthy. Yet there seemed to be no personal slaves accompanying her, no bodyguards. More curious still, she carried bundles on her shoulders, as well as a waterskin and food bag. A young woman traveling alone? Surely she was not going far, to the next village perhaps.
As the two greedy traders fought over her like dogs over a bone, Sebastianus returned to his troubled thoughts and the reason for his urgency to depart. It had nothing to do with his regular commerce along the Rhine. Sebastianus Gallus was in a race to reach the farthest ends of the earth, where it was rumored that ships sailed over the edge and horses galloped into frothy mists, never to be seen again.
Sebastianus was in a race to win the coveted imperial diploma to escort a caravan to distant China. And what made him anxious on this spring morning filled with noise and smoke and sunshine was that he was competing aga
inst four other traders, men personally known to him as good, solid citizens who traded fairly and deserved the China route as much as he did. But Emperor Claudius was going to award the diploma to only one man.
Each trader was to complete his regular trade route while at the same time distinguishing himself in some endeavor. Sebastianus knew that his four competitors were going to succeed in making themselves stand out in Claudius's eyes. Badru the Egyptian had struck south for Africa, taking cheap clothes and trinkets to exchange for tortoise shell and ivory, and Sebastianus knew that Badru had the opportunity to bring back a rare beast for the arena. Sahir the Hindu was on his way to the southeast to pick up perfume and incense and was likely to find priceless books for the emperor. Adon the Phoenician was heading to Spain with pepper and cloves and would no doubt pick up vintage wine that Claudius had a specific taste for. And Gaspar the Persian, whose trade route carried him into the Zagros Mountains, would surely find a fabled rare flower with powerful aphrodisiac properties (everyone knew how desperate Claudius was to please his young wife, Agrippina). But Sebastianus Gallus the Spaniard was following his usual northward route to trade for amber and pewter, salt and fur. What could he find in the Rhineland that would catch Emperor Claudius's eye and persuade him to award Gallus the coveted diploma?
What troubled him further was the rumor that Roman legions, under the command of Gaius Vatinius, were marching north to engage renegade Barbarians in a major battle. Although war could be good for business, in this case it could hurt Sebastianus's chances to win the diploma.
He glanced impatiently at Timonides, who was trying to apply a copper protractor to a zodiacal chart, but with little success. Sebastianus wondered if he should seek the services of another astrologer. Time was slipping through his fingers!
Gallus was eager to make a name for himself. His father and grandfather and uncles had all carved new trade routes, distinguishing themselves, adding prestige to the already noted and respected Gallus family. Now Sebastianus wanted to prove himself by securing the China route for Emperor Claudius. It was the last unknown frontier, the last chance to carve a new route while at the same time earning the singular distinction of being the first man from the west to reach the imperial palace in China.
"I will take you all the way to Colonia! This man does not go beyond Lugdunum, he will abandon you there! I have a nice carriage, only three other passengers inside!"
At the sound of Hashim's barking voice, Sebastianus turned in surprise. The young lady was going all the way to Colonia?
He watched as Kaptah busily worked his abacus, a portable calculating device made of copper and beads, used by merchants, engineers, bankers, and tax collectors. The stocky Syrian was tallying the girl's fare by mile and food, throwing in extra fees here and there for water, the use of a donkey, even a place by the nightly campfire.
"Robbery!" shouted Hashim, his swarthy face turning purple. "Dear lady, with me you will not ride on a donkey but in a cart, and for that I will charge you only a slightly higher fee."
The young woman looked from one to the other in confusion, and when they saw her turn to the right, to glance down the row of tents and compounds that were all collected under a dusty sign that said GERMANIA INFERIOR, they both started talking at once, declaring that all other traders heading north would gouge her for every cent she had and then sell her to the Barbarians as a slave.
Seeing that the girl was at the mercy of these two vultures, both of whom Gallus knew very well—unscrupulous to the marrow, each of them—he spoke up. "My brothers!" he said congenially, striding up. "I have always noticed that the louder you both get, the bigger your lies."
He turned to the young lady and, before he could say another word, received a shock. As she turned to him, he glimpsed beneath the modest veil light-colored hair and blue eyes. She was holding a corner of her veil up to her chin, as Roman girls were taught, never to fully cover the face, but giving the effect of being ready to cover should the situation call for it. Sebastianus stared at the oval face drawing down to a delicately pointed chin, arched brows, small nose. But what arrested him most were her eyes.
He was momentarily speechless as he was remembering the time he had visited the famed Blue Grotto of Capri. Her eyes were the color of that lagoon.
"These men are not to be trusted," he said with a smile, casting the two men a warning glance when they started to protest. "They are rogues—lovable—but rogues all the same. If you wish, I can help you find an honest trader who will see to your safe passage to where you are going. What is your destination?" he asked, thinking that surely he had heard wrong.
But she replied, "Colonia," and he heard a confident tone, a strong voice, and then he looked around again for her companions. Perhaps they had yet to arrive, most likely because they had so much baggage to bring along for the wealthy young lady.
"How many are in your party?" he asked.
Ulrika looked up into the face of the stranger who had come to her aid. He stood a head taller than herself, the morning sun catching bronze highlights in his hair. He had a strong jaw, a straight and narrow nose, with a beard that was so closely cropped it was barely more than a shadow on his chin. Ulrika suspected he was not Roman because his Latin was lightly accented, as if it were not his mother tongue. Then she saw, lying upon his broad chest, suspended on a leather thong and resting against the white linen of his knee-length tunic, a scallop shell the size of her hand. She recognized it as a mollusk known to proliferate along the northwestern shore of Spain, and she had heard that Galicians wore these shells to remind them of home, and to show pride in their race and heritage.
She wondered briefly about this Spaniard. His brow seemed permanently furrowed, as if a problem had entered his head long ago and had yet to be solved. Not a man at peace with himself, she thought, or with the world. Impressions rushed at her: although his smile was easy, he was angry, but at whom or what she could not guess; his gaze was open, but he gave the impression of being guarded; and despite his relaxed stance, he seemed to be holding himself tightly, as if afraid of losing control. Had something—or someone—hurt him long ago?
"It is just myself," she replied, taking a small step back to put space between herself and this man, turning to look down the rows of camps. When she had left home that morning with such determination to reach the Rhineland, she had not anticipated difficulty in finding a party with whom to travel. Who could she trust?
"You travel to Colonia on your own?" the Galician asked in surprise. "But it is such a hostile place for a lone girl to visit."
She brought her eyes back to his—wondering where she had seen irises so green. "I have family there."
His frown deepened. "Still," he said. "A girl traveling on her own."
"Travel is not new to me. I was born in Persia, and from the age of three, when I left that distant city, I have traveled the world. I have seen Jerusalem and Alexandria. I have even crossed the Great Green on a ship."
"That may well be," he said, "but the world will only see a vulnerable female without protection. You will need to find a family that is going north and willing to have you join them, or a group of females. Unfortunately, my own caravan consists only of men, and I cannot be responsible for your safety at all times." He smiled. "My name is Sebastianus Gallus and I will help you find an honest guide to take you to Colonia. I am acquainted with nearly every man in the caravan trade, the honest ones as well as the cheats."
"I am Ulrika," she said, "and I welcome your kind assistance."
When Hashim and Kaptah, who had watched the exchange in curiosity, began to protest Sebastianus's stealing their customer, he shot them a look that silenced them. As he started to escort the young woman away, with the two traders accusing each other of causing the loss of a profitable fare, Sebastianus glanced back at his compound where Timonides the star-reader was still cradling his head and moaning.
Following his line of sight, Ulrika saw the fat, bloated man with a ring of white hair around
his bald head. "What is wrong with him?" she asked.
"We do not know. He is my astrologer and he is unable to cast a horoscope."
Ulrika hesitated. She was in a hurry to start her journey northward, but the man was clearly in distress. "Perhaps I can help."
AS THE STAR-CHARTS SWAM before his blurry eyes, Timonides thought he was going to burst into tears. Never had he known such despair, such bleakness. The stars were his life, his soul, and the messages contained within them were more precious to him than his own blood. He had dedicated his entire life to the heavens and interpreting the secrets written therein, but now look at him! Unable to distinguish Cassiopeia from Leo!
Lifting his head, hoping to dislodge the pain but feeling it only worsen, he saw his master walking toward him and he seemed to be accompanying a young lady.
Timonides momentarily forgot his pain as he watched Sebastianus take the girl's travel packs and water and food bags and shoulder them himself, leaving her free to hold her veil modestly in place—a skill known to Roman women that never ceased to amaze Timonides.
Strange girl, he thought as they drew near. By the drape and color of her dress and palla, she was patrician, yet she had been carrying her own packs. No doubt she was off to visit family, maybe attend a birth, for that was what motivated most women to travel. To his surprise, she stepped away from Sebastianus and approached.
"Is it a toothache, sir?"
He stared up into sky-blue eyes framed by hair the color of a young deer. Great Zeus, where had his master found this one? "Of the teeth remaining to me, mistress," Timonides said, "none give me grief, thank the gods. What ails me, miss, is my jaw."
"I am Ulrika," she said gently, "may I take a look?" To his surprise, she took the seat opposite him and, reaching out, gently palpated his jaw and neck with soft fingertips. "Is the pain worse when you eat?"
The Divining Page 3