He fell silent then, and found himself held captive by a pair of frank, blue eyes. He gazed at Ulrika across the golden flames of the campfire, and felt unaccustomed yearnings stir deep within him.
Breaking away from the spell of her eyes, Sebastianus cleared his throat, looked at his hands, and then surveyed their saturnine surroundings. "This cave evokes a memory from my boyhood in Galicia, when I was thirteen years old. There was a man, Malachi, who owned the largest vineyard in the area. He was fat and rich and my brother Lucius and I had heard our father say that Malachi was cruel to his slaves and animals. We did not like that. So Lucius and I would sneak among Malachi's vines and eat his grapes until he chased us off with a whip. One night we crept into his vineyard and stole bunches of ripe grapes, taking them into town and selling them. When Malachi complained to our father, he gave us the thrashing of our lives. This meant revenge. Our plan involved a cave very much like this one."
Ulrika kept her eyes on Sebastianus as he spoke.
"Lucius and I dug a pit just inside the cave's entrance and filled it with pig manure. And then we ran past Malachi's house, making sure he heard us, exclaiming about treasure we had found in the cave. Because he was greedy, or so we thought, we knew he could not resist following us. We paraded in and out of that cave carrying bags, knowing Malachi was watching. And then Lucius and I loudly agreed that we had enough treasure and should go home."
Sebastianus laughed softly. "We thought we were so clever. We did not know, of course, that Malachi was onto us. As we watched the entrance, he came up behind us. He shouted, 'BAH!' We jumped up and yelped and dashed straight into the cave and the manure pit. My mother scrubbed us with soap for a week to get the smell out. And Father gave us yet another thrashing. Lucius and I didn't laugh at the time, but in later years we did."
Sebastianus shook his head. "I was always looking for trouble and Lucius, being younger, followed. Neighbors called us 'those Gallus devils.' My father was forever apologizing for our pranks. But he secretly admired us. He had a way of smiling when he thought we weren't looking."
"Tell me about your family," Ulrika said, finding comfort in the sound of his voice.
"We have been traders for generations. It is in our blood. My ancestors journeyed the length and breadth of Iberia, taking goods to the many tribes that have lived there for millennia. When the Romans crossed the Pyrenees into our land, two centuries ago, my family did not fight them, as others of my race did. Instead, they saw it as an opportunity to expand commerce. My forefathers entered into contracts with the invading Romans, and began carving out routes to distant lands, following the new roads being laid down by Roman legionaries. When Julius Caesar made the conquest of Iberia complete, my family adopted Roman names and Roman ways, we learned to speak Latin and cultivate Roman friendships, and when we were offered Roman citizenship, we embraced it. My ancestral home, Galicia, is the northwesternmost tip of Hispania. I own land there, and a villa.
"My three sisters live there with their husbands and children. I have not seen them in five years, but I write to them regularly, and send money home, even though they are prosperous. I miss my home and my family very much."
"My mother is the only family I have ever known," Ulrika said, picturing a Galician villa filled with children. "We never had a home, we were always on the move because of her personal quest. We came to Rome seven years ago, but it has never felt like home to me. I have never really known where I belong. I had thought perhaps here ..." She sighed. "It must be nice to have an ancestral home, to know that blood relations are still there, that you can always go back someday."
"Someday . . ." Sebastianus said as he stared into the fire. That was the problem. Sebastianus Gallus was a man who wanted to walk two streets at the same time: he wanted to remain unmarried and free to explore the world, open new trade routes. But he also yearned to go home, settle down, marry, and have a family. He could not do both, and so he traveled his exotic trade routes with a divided heart.
"My next journey, the gods willing," he said, "will be to China. If Emperor Claudius will grant me the imperial diploma." And if, he added silently, I can find a way to distinguish myself over Badru, Gaspar, Adon, and Sahir.
Sebastianus had been on his way to meet with Gaius Vatinius, to inform the general of the location of the hidden rebel camp, when he had been stopped by a stab of conscience. Although the information he carried to the Roman commander was priceless beyond measure, and would surely guarantee the granting of the diploma to him by Claudius, Sebastianus had suddenly thought: the insurgents might be this girl's family. And he could not betray her. She trusted him, had placed herself in his care, and Sebastianus always prided himself on being an honorable man. So he had turned back, deciding that he must earn the diploma by other means.
"Can you not go to China without one?" she asked. "Do merchants not travel that route already?"
"No merchants from Rome have ever gone as far as China. The route is long and fraught with danger. Caravans are constantly being attacked by brigands and mountain tribes. A diploma from the imperial court at Rome guarantees some degree of safety, but only as far as Persia. Beyond that, little is known about that fabled far-off land."
Hoot! Hoot!
Ulrika turned to the entrance, her eyes widening.
Sebastianus stirred the fire. "It is but an owl," he said quietly. Or, he thought, it is a secret signal. And he imagined the Barbarians using the cover of night to plan their assault on the cave. He kept his sword close.
Ulrika turned then to peer into the darkness at the back of the cave. "What is it?" he asked.
"I thought I heard ..."
"There is nothing there," he said, looking into the black abyss beyond the fire's glow and feeling the dark forest at his back with its myriad sounds and whisperings.
Ulrika slowly rose, her body stiff as she leaned toward the darkness.
Sebastianus reached out, touched her arm, to reassure her. She gave a cry and whipped about. "It's only me," he said.
Ulrika's eyes went to the scallop shell that lay on his chest, a cream-colored mollusk with fluted ribs and a wavy outer edge. "What does it mean?" she asked as she sat down.
Sebastianus looked down at the shell suspended on a leather cord and said, "There is an ancient altar near my town. No one knows who built it or when, or to which god it was originally dedicated. Since the arrival of the Romans, someone has carved the word 'Jupiter' into the stone, but I believe the altar was originally dedicated to a goddess because it is decorated with hundreds of scallop shells which, as everyone knows, is the symbol sacred to the goddesses Ishtar and Mari. For many years pilgrims came from all over, each adding a scallop shell. In this way the altar became large and beautiful."
Sebastianus was proud that he was a descendant of the distant ancestress who had built the altar. In fact, he had taken his scallop shell directly from the altar instead of collecting it at the shore as others did. The shell around his neck was very old and might possibly be one of the originals placed there by his ancestress herself, and so it carried great power.
"Unfortunately," he added wistfully, "the highways to the remote altar became rife with brigands who set upon the unarmed pilgrims. Visits are sparse now. I fear the altar might someday be forgotten."
"It means a lot to you?" Ulrika asked.
He gave this some thought, weighing his answer. "I was praying there one night, ten years ago, and ..." He hesitated.
Lucius, she thought, holding him with her eyes.
The flames crackled and snapped. The darkness of the forest hovered at the cave's entrance, a constant reminder of the dangers beyond. Behind her, Ulrika felt the darkness of the cave's belly, empty and hungry. She saw how the fire brought out the bronze highlights in Sebastianus's hair.
"Ten years ago," he said quietly, his green eyes reflecting the light as he relived a memory, "I was to accompany a shipment of wine to Cypress with a fleet of our merchant ships. My brother Lucius was to take a local
caravan in Hispania. But he knew of my desire to go to China, that I had recently come into possession of new maps to the East, that I needed to study them, plan my route, meet with traders who had recently come from kingdoms that lie on the road to China. And so Lucius offered to change places with me. Our father would not have approved, but he was in Rome at the time, and would not have known of the switch. So Lucius accompanied the ships to Cypress. He perished during a storm at sea."
He touched the gold bracelet on his wrist. "I was at the scallop-shell altar," he said, "the night a shower of stars fell from the sky. A river of debris covered the countryside, mostly bits of ice and rock no bigger than a grain of sand, but that night, as the star-shower streaked the sky, I saw a star fall to earth, and I ran out into the hills to find it." He touched the small, gray stone on his gold bracelet. "The crust was hot at first, but it cooled, and I kept it as a trophy, an actual fragment of a star."
His face darkened, his gaze going inward as he said, "And then the letter came, informing me of Lucius's death, and when the author of the letter specified the exact date—the tenth day of that month named for Julius Caesar—and I realized it was the same day on which I had found the star-stone, I knew it was a sign from my brother. But I also realized that I had sent my brother to a death that should have been my own, and so I made a vow that day, on the sacred scallop shell, never to remove this bracelet, in memory of my brother."
"I'm sorry," Ulrika said. "That is a sad story." She suddenly sat up. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
Ulrika listened. Beyond the cave's entrance, the forest stood in complete darkness, with not even moon glow to relieve the night. She turned and looked toward the back of the cave, also plunged in darkness. "We are not alone," she whispered. "Someone is in here."
Sebastianus shook his head. "It is impossible. There is no other entrance."
"There is someone at the back of the cave. I'm sure of it."
Wrapping a dried vine around the end of a stick to form a torch, Sebastianus rose and walked toward the back of the cave, Ulrika following. But the light illuminated only cold, stone walls and an earthen floor, with a ceiling so low they had to lower their heads. When they reached the end, they found no exit, no way for an intruder to get inside.
"You see?" Sebastianus said. "There is no one here."
"Look!" Ulrika whispered, pointing.
He turned and, lifting the torch, saw the rock wall suddenly spring to life. It was covered in vivid paintings, and as Sebastianus examined the figures rendered in bright reds and yellows and browns, he was able to identify bison, deer, wolves. There were also small figures of men carrying spears, chasing the animals, hunting them. All executed in a lifelike manner. Sebastianus had never seen anything like it.
"Someone is buried here," Ulrika murmured. "He was a holy man ... a long time ago."
Sebastianus turned to her and saw Ulrika's face cast in strange shadows. Her eyes were wide as they swept the darkness, as if searching for that ancient holy man, as if expecting to find him there, welcoming the two intruders.
"This is why we are safe in here," she added quietly. "This is why those men outside will not come in here. It is a holy place, and taboo for them to walk on this ground."
"How did you know?"
"I think—" she began. "Do you remember the old woman who told you in which direction I had gone? She took me into her hut for a while and she told me that I have a gift."
"What sort of gift?"
"I am visited by visions, dreams. I thought it was a sickness, but the old woman said it is a power given to me by the gods and that I am to use it to help others."
Sebastianus nodded. "My mother believed in such powers. She called it the Invisible Eye." He took in the loose tawny hair, trailing over one shoulder but still coiled on the other side, the smudges on her cheeks and chin, the tattered dress that spoke of disappointment and grief. And suddenly he was gripped with the impulse to take her into his arms and hold her, keep her safe, make love to her. "It is late. You need to sleep."
As he led the way back to the reassuring fire, they both tried to ignore the forest beyond the cave's entrance, an uncanny realm of ghosts and owls and Barbarian rebels awaiting the unsuspecting trespasser. Ulrika gave Sebastianus's cloak back to him, saying her own would be sufficient now that the fire had warmed the cave, and then she took a place by the amber flames, to lie down and curl up in her cloak.
Soon, troubling images filled her slumbering mind. The valley strewn with the victims of Roman treachery. Her father, cut down by an imperial sword. Did he fight to the very end? Did it take ten soldiers to finally bring the great Wulf to his knees? In her dream, Ulrika wept until she thought her heart would break.
And then she realized she was not sleeping by the fire anymore but had somehow made her way to the back of the cave, where she was alone beneath the stony vault ceiling.
In the next moment, sandaled feet stood before her. Ulrika pushed herself up and saw an old man looming over her, robed in a bear skin and carrying a spear. His hair and beard where white and long. He spoke. "I am the shaman of our tribe. We are Wolf Clan. I created these paintings eons ago. They tell the story of our people. Your people. You have forgotten who you are, your ancient names, your purpose and destiny. It is not for you, Ulrika of the Cherusci, to sit at a loom, recline on silken couches, and have slaves attend you. Ancient blood swims in your veins. Feel it. You know in your bones, you know in your sinew, who you are. You know, too, that the gods have singled you out for a special purpose. You have been given a great gift, which you must use for the good of humankind. But first you must return to the place of your beginning."
"My beginning," Ulrika whispered. "I do not know where that is."
"Your mother told you the story long ago. You have not forgotten. The name of the place sleeps in the deepest part of your soul. Think, Ulrika!"
She struggled with her thoughts. Yes, her mother had told her of her journey through Persia with Wulf. But there had been many place names—
"Go deep into that place you rarely venture, Ulrika, to that part of your soul which slumbers, a repository of precious memories. Your mother and father stopped to rest at a place called..."
"I remember," Ulrika said in wonder. "They stayed beside the Crystal Pools of Shalamandar."
"And that is where you must go ..."
The old man was bent and wizened, skin and bone, but as he stood before Ulrika against the backdrop of vividly painted bison and deer, the flesh began to grow on his limbs, muscles filled out beneath the shriveled skin, he grew tall. His hair turned from white to bronze, the fragile jaw filled in and grew a stubbled beard.
Sebastianus!
He wore only a loincloth. She saw the wound on his upper arm, which she had cleaned and bandaged, an injury to muscles that had wielded the heavy sword when he came to her rescue. He glistened with sweat.
What had he to do with this cave, with the shaman who slept here?
Sebastianus filled the stone chamber with his masculine power. Ulrika had never known a man so strong, so male. She became warm, feverish. She rose to her feet to stand before him, to face this powerful man.
He spoke in the voice of the ancient shaman: "You must not turn your back on the call from the gods. You are courageous, Ulrika. You will not deny your destiny."
"But I do not know how to find the Crystal Pools of Shalamandar. And it is such a long and hazardous journey."
"Great destinies do not come easily."
Sebastianus reached up and drew down the other side of her hair, undoing the Grecian knot entirely. At his touch, her skin caught on fire. She had never known such sexual hunger. But she felt something else, too, a power she had never sensed before, as if it were waking up, stirring from a deep, ancient slumber.
He swept her into his arms then and, pulling her to him, pressed his lips to hers. Ulrika's arms went around his neck. She clung to him, kissing him back, relishing the hardness of his body, h
is masculine power and strength.
And then he began to fade, leaving her arms empty and cold.
Don't leave me ...
ACROSS THE FIRE, SEBASTIANUS watched Ulrika as she slept. It was a fitful sleep, her eyelids fluttering and small sounds coming from her throat. Of what did she dream, he wondered? She was enchanted somehow, touched by a special magic. The admission of her special gift did not surprise him. But where in all the world did such a special creature belong?
When she started to shiver violently, he took his cloak and laid down beside her, covering her with the thick blue fabric and drawing her into his arms. Her hand went up to his neck, and Sebastianus struggled against desire. Ulrika was asleep, vulnerable, and he was her protector. He would never betray that trust.
He stroked her hair and whispered words of comfort, and after a moment she grew quiet and the shivering stopped. As he watched her closed eyelids, the long lashes resting on white skin, he thought of the wondrous gift she had given him and did not know it—a priceless commodity that was going to be presented to Claudius Caesar upon Sebastianus's return to Rome and that was going to guarantee the awarding of the China diploma to him.
With such exciting thoughts in his head, Sebastianus fell asleep, holding the enchanted girl, protecting her with his strength and his warmth. And presently he sighed deeply, his broad chest expanding, and as he exhaled, a low groan came from this throat.
Ulrika opened her eyes and felt the scratch of beard stubble on her forehead. When she felt the strong arms encircling her, inhaled the masculine smell, and realized that she lay in a man's embrace, she gasped.
Ulrika had grown up in the company of women. She had no brothers, uncles, or male cousins. Wherever she and her mother had lived, it was always at a residence of females. She had never experienced the touch of a man, had never lain with a man, had never felt his heat and strength. She held her breath now, overwhelmed by the power of this man as he cradled her in his muscular arms, as she pressed her hands to his shoulders and felt the hardness beneath. She rested her face on his chest, relishing the steady thumping of his heart.
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