‘I see that,’ said Sextus. ‘She’s been fighting already, eh?’
‘It’s a bit of a swelling and a black eye,’ said Antonius carelessly. ‘A few days and they’ll be gone.’
‘And of course the backs of her thighs. They’ll need a bit of cleaning up.’
Antonius glared in Cassius’ direction.
‘She’s well built, that’s for sure,’ said Sextus. ‘I’m sure she’s gone a bit soft in your establishment, lying on her back all the time, but that’s nothing that a little training won’t cure. Turn around,’ he said to Birkita. His voice was gentle, almost kind. Birkita remembered the healer in the village a lifetime ago.
Before she could respond, Cassius seized her roughly by the shoulder and turned her back to the two men.
‘And back again,’ said Sextus.
He looked at Birkita appraisingly. Into her eyes. Then, as if for one last time, he sized her up from head to toe.
‘I’ll take her. And you’ll give me a little discount for the face and the thighs.’
‘Come up the street, we’ll have a cup of wine and we can talk about that,’ said Antonius.
‘Excellent,’ said Sextus. ‘In fact,’ he said, ‘I’m thinking it must be nearly breakfast time.’ He put his hand on his ample stomach. ‘Throw in breakfast and you’ll have yourself a deal.’
Antonius put his arm around Sextus’ shoulder and ushered him out the door. Over his shoulder, Sextus said, ‘Give her some water, for heaven’s sake. And clean her up.’
After the door closed, Cassius called, ‘Flavia?’
She stepped out of the shadows at the back of the small room in which she lived. She had been there all the time.
Flavia brought a bowl of water and a sponge and went down on her knees behind Birkita. She lifted her hem and began to wipe the back of one thigh gently. The wound stung. Birkita glanced down. The water in the bowl had turned red.
‘The bleeding has stopped,’ announced Flavia. ‘That’s good.’
She moved on to the other thigh.
‘I’m just going to go outside and get some air,’ said Cassius. ‘There’s only one way out, British bitch – and that’s where I’ll be.’
Cassius went out onto the street.
‘See how the stink went with him,’ said Flavia.
If it was intended as a joke, Birkita didn’t laugh.
Instead, she looked around the room but Cassius was right – there was only the front door and a tiny window high up at the back. She would never have fitted through it.
Flavia finished the other thigh and got up off her knees. She went and changed the water, returned and started on Birkita’s cheek and eye.
‘When?’ Birkita asked.
She tried to catch Flavia’s eye but Flavia kept hers averted.
‘When what?’
‘When did you betray me?’
Flavia said nothing, dabbing away at the eye.
‘When?’ Birkita almost shouted.
‘Just now ... after he fucked me ... he offered me my freedom.’
‘And you believe him? You said it yourself – he’s as changeable as the wind.’
‘I have no reason to doubt him,’ said Flavia, in a tone that sounded like she was trying to convince herself. ‘On the first day of spring, the fifth day of Februarius, he will make me free. I must pay him, of course. But I have been saving the money. I told him what I have and he says it is enough. After that, I will be free. He says I can stay here and keep working in the lupanar or go, as I choose. If you had escaped that would have been the end of my freedom.’
‘You don’t care about anybody but yourself, do you?’
‘I stopped caring for anybody else the day I came here,’ said Flavia. ‘I asked him to forgive you. I pleaded with him. But it was no good. He said if he did that, then it would only be a matter of time before one of the others tried it. He said he couldn’t spend all his time watching you. That he had to make an example.’
Birkita said nothing, wincing as the sponge touched a cut near the corner of her eye.
‘He was going to have you crucified. But I asked him to do with you what he’d done with Claudia. Send you to the arena.’
‘It’s the same thing,’ said Birkita.
‘No,’ said Flavia and now she faced Birkita and looked into her eyes. ‘It’s not the same thing. Can’t you see? This way you have a chance. You’re a warrior. Claudia’s not but you are. I knew it the first time I saw you. You have the body of a warrior. You can win. Win your freedom – just like me.’
‘You betrayed me,’ Birkita said again.
‘What could I do?’ Flavia appealed. ‘What would you have done in my place?’
‘We could both have been free,’ said Birkita.
Flavia finished and dropped the sponge back in the pink water. It wasn’t as bloody as the last time. As she stooped to pick up the bowl, Birkita said, ‘Flavia, in my cloak is a dagger. Get it and please cut my throat.’
Flavia looked at her in horror.
‘I can’t do that,’ she said.
‘Please – you must.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Flavia – they’re going to put me in the arena. You’ve seen what happens.’
‘Birkita ... I can’t. I ... I love you.’
It was the most outrageous thing Birkita had ever heard. She thought to spit in Flavia’s face. Instead she said, ‘If that’s true ... If you have any feelings of love at all for me, you would do this. If you even cared for me the tiniest bit.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Do you want me to die in the arena? For sport? Is that what you want?’
‘I can’t hurt you, Birkita.’
‘And what do you think you’ve done already? What do you think they’ll do to me in the arena?’
Before Flavia could answer, the door opened and Cassius came back in, the smell wafting in with him. He leant against the doorpost watching Birkita, leering at her. Flavia brought some water which Birkita drank greedily – she was unbelievably thirsty. Outside the sounds of the day waking started to drift in – traffic, people, animals. Birkita suddenly felt completely weary. She had had a long working day and no sleep. And then all this. She thought how delicious it would be to sleep and not wake up again.
Just then Antonius and Sextus returned. Sextus took her chin in his hand and moved her face up to the light.
‘That looks better,’ he said. ‘Good. Time to go.’
‘You go with him,’ Antonius said to Cassius. ‘I’ll talk to you later.’
‘Come then,’ said Sextus cheerily. ‘Time to show you your new home.’
28
Julia puts down the pencil. It’s been one of the longer chapters and took her the best part of a week to write. She sits up in bed using her knees as a desk. Her writing hand is aching. She shakes it out.
It is nearly lights out. Julia looks down at Suzanne, but discovers that she is asleep, breathing deeply. She lies on her side, blanket pulled up around her shoulder. Both her hands lie on the pillow in front of her face, fingers interlaced. The effect is not so much like she is praying but rather that someone is holding her hand. Her hair is just starting to become tossed. People look so gentle and soft and vulnerable when they are asleep. Julia wonders if Nazis look like this when they are asleep. What does Hitler look like? Julia wonders when Suzanne fell asleep. She didn’t say good night.
Birkita’s words keep going around in Julia’s head. You betrayed me. You betrayed me.
She had.
She has betrayed Suzanne.
Maybe not as bad as Flavia’s but a betrayal just the same. She led Suzanne along and then walked away. As Julia was writing the bits about Cassius mistreating Birkita, she felt a certain grim satisfaction. Instead of Birkita, it was Julia being punished for her betrayal.
The lights go out and the place is plunged into darkness. Julia slides down into the bed wearily. The words keep buzzing around like angry bees in a disturbed hive.
You betra
yed me. You betrayed me.
The next day Julia and Suzanne go their separate ways to their work. But when Julia arrives at hers, the painting foreman tells her that she has a new job. He tells her where to go and who to look for.
Her new boss, the Austrian that Suzanne told her about, is called Adolf.
‘I share a name with our beloved Führer,’ he says with a faint smile, as he shakes her hand and welcomes her.
Julia can’t tell whether or not he is being sarcastic.
He has black hair and a long face with chiselled features – strong nose and chin, good cheekbones – that, if anything, have been even more accentuated by the poor food. He looks like he might have been some kind of athlete – he has that physical presence about him that sportsmen have. He is handsome in a craggy sort of way, reminding Julia of an eagle.
He seems an unlikely choice to be heading up the team that are planting flowers but he explains that it is more than that. They are one of a number of teams – he calls them ‘kommandos’ – who are turning ‘desolate and decrepit areas of the ghetto into green and flowering spaces’.
‘There will be a lot more nature in the ghetto,’ he says.
Julia thinks that the whole ghetto is desolate and decrepit and should be blown up or bulldozed. She hopes that after the war it will be, though she knows this is a bit unlikely.
‘Suzanne says you are a good worker,’ says Adolf. ‘You Dutch girls seem to be – that’s if Suzanne is anything to go by. And not bad-looking either,’ he adds, looking her in the eye and grinning.
In her old life Julia has heard this kind of shit a million times.
‘What do you want me to do?’ she asks as coldly as possible.
That night Julia tries to talk to Suzanne again.
‘I didn’t mean to hurt you,’ Julia says while they are eating.
‘I was upset at the time,’ says Suzanne, ‘but I’m OK now.’
‘I don’t know what it was,’ says Julia.
Suzanne doesn’t say anything to this but she looks into Julia’s eyes. Suzanne’s blue eyes are so striking.
‘This place,’ goes on Julia. ‘The bad food. The war. We’re so tired all the time.’
Suzanne’s silence continues. This is not going at all the way Julia wanted it to go. She’s on the point of starting to babble.
Suzanne says, ‘It’s OK. Really. Everyone does what they can.’
Julia feels a bit panicky.
‘But ... but what about after the war? When we get out of here?’
Suzanne shakes her head.
‘You can’t plan for everything, you know, Julia. You can’t anticipate everything. Control everything. Sometimes you just have to wait and see what happens.’
‘But I love you,’ says Julia, unable to keep the desperation out of her voice.
‘I love you, Julia, and I always will.’
Suzanne lowers her bowl and puts the spoon in it. ‘Have you ever seen a full moon shining on the sea? It creates a silvery pathway on the water. It’s like something has come down from some heavenly place and come among us. That was how I felt when I met you.’
At first Julia feels comforted by these words. It’s more like the old, dreamy Suzanne with all her mystical talk. But then Julia realises that Suzanne said ‘was’ – ‘that was how I felt when I met you.’
Before Julia can agonise any more about this, Suzanne says, ‘So I’ll always love you, Julia. No matter what happens.’
These last words chill Julia.
‘But we have to stay together,’ she says.
‘That would be nice,’ says Suzanne gently. ‘I’d like that.’
‘But if it’s what we both want then we have to make sure it happens.’
‘And we will,’ says Suzanne.
She puts her hand on Julia’s and holds it there for a few moments.
‘We will.’
It is forgiveness.
Of sorts.
Chapter Fifteen
Gladiator School (Suzanne)
With Sextus leading and Cassius bringing up the rear, they made their way westwards across the city. Birkita’s head pounded and her eye felt swollen. She thought to make a run for it but her hands were still tied behind her back. It would be pointless. Cassius would only pull her back again. She would at least have to wait until she was untied.
Sextus seemed to know everybody. He waved or said ‘ave’ or stopped to shake hands and have a little talk.
As they were walking down the street, Birkita noticed lots of frogs hopping around on the stones. Sextus noticed it too.
‘There’s a strange thing now,’ he said to nobody in particular. ‘Never seen that before.’
The low building into which she was led had a rectangular inner courtyard covered in sand. It was surrounded on all sides by a shaded colonnade. The sun was high enough now that it bathed the courtyard in warm lemon light.
At one end of the courtyard, men were fighting with swords, shields, nets and three-pronged forks. At the other, there was a group of about twenty girls and women. Their hair was tied up, they wore shabby, short tunics and they were fighting in pairs with wooden swords and shields.
Two men walked amongst the women, pushing them, shouting orders, urging them on. Occasionally they would take somebody’s hand in theirs and show them how to hold the weapon. Sextus called one of the men over.
‘Here’s your latest recruit, Severus. She’s from Britannia.’
The man called Severus was built like a barrel with short squat legs, powerful, muscular arms and a huge chest. He was naked to the waist and his chest and arms were covered in bushy black hair. He wore brown leather armbands on his wrists.
‘I hope she can fight,’ he said in a voice that was deep and seemed to resonate in the keg of his chest. ‘Because precious few of these ones can.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Sextus, sounding like a man who never worried about anything. ‘We’re new to this. Nobody’s seen women fight here in Pompeii before. It will be a novelty. They’ll love it because it’ll be something new. No matter how bad the fighting is.’
‘We’ll see,’ said Severus, sounding unconvinced.
‘And I’ve had another idea. I’ve been racking my brains trying to work out the best way to present this. If the fighting is not going to be up to scratch, then there has to be some other angle. So what I thought was – Amazons.’
‘Amazons?’
‘Yes – Amazons – Greek female warriors. With this one’ – he indicated Birkita – ‘that makes twenty. So we’ll have two armies – Romans and Amazons. Of course the Romans will have to win, so you need them to be your best fighters. Oh – and one other thing. The Amazons used to wear tunics where one of their breasts was exposed.’
Severus grinned and shook his head.
‘Boss, boss, boss. Always with the sex.’
Sextus smiled an almost boyish smile.
‘Whenever I can. We provide entertainment, Severus. That’s what we do. That’s our job. And what better entertainment than sex? So what I was going to say was – make sure that the Amazons have the ones with the biggest breasts.’
‘And the Romans have the best fighters?’ asked Severus.
‘Yes.’
‘And suppose the best fighters have the biggest breasts?’
Sextus slapped Severus on the upper arm.
‘I’m sure you’ll work it out.’
‘All right, British girl,’ Severus said to Birkita. ‘Let’s see what you’re made of. We’ll get rid of this for starters.’
Severus pulled a knife from his belt and cut Birkita’s bonds. One of her wrists was cut from the twine and the other had several deep red scores around it. She rubbed her wrists as Severus took her by the arm and led her towards the other women.
‘Take a break,’ he shouted to them. ‘Get some water.’
The women did as they were told, carrying their weapons to where a barrel of water sat in the shade.
As Birkita appro
ached, she saw a familiar face break out into an expression of complete happiness.
It was Claudia.
‘Birkita!’ she said, running towards her.
‘You’ve come to save me,’ Claudia said as she hugged Birkita.
Not to save you. I’ve come to kill you.
Chapter Sixteen
I’ll Try to Protect You (Julia)
It wasn’t so much training, as a rehearsal for a performance. Birkita had done weapons training. This wasn’t it.
Most of the women were totally unsuited to what they were being asked to do. There were young girls – teenagers – who alternated between trying to master the weapons and breaking out into tears at the prospect of what lay in store for them. The rest were Birkita’s age or a bit older. Some carried wounds – a limp, a livid scar across the face, a couple of broken noses, scars of a flogging, a forearm that had broken and not knit properly. One’s face had some kind of pox on it – angry, red, weeping sores.
That first day Birkita was astonished at how poor her performance was. It had been so long since she had held a weapon. Almost every opponent she took on beat her. By the end of the day she was bruised and spent. Every bone and muscle in her body ached.
They were given a thick soup and bread for supper. The soup even had some meat in it. They ate in a room that smelt of sweat, moon blood, the toilet and fear. Afterwards, Birkita lay on the hard cot in the small cell that she shared with Claudia. She understood that what had happened today had been a blessing. The others would underestimate her – and that was always a good thing.
If she could get her strength and stamina back in time, she reckoned she had the beating of most of the women there. Most of them were slaves, not warriors. It would have taken several moons to transform them – and apparently, there weren’t going to be several moons.
There were two women though, that Birkita was much less certain about. She called them the Cow and the Warrior. The Cow was a short, squat woman with one of the ugliest faces Birkita had ever seen. She was built like a small mountain – short thighs like tree trunks, gobbets of wobbly fat on her upper arms, bad teeth, breasts that spread all over her chest and belly.
At first Birkita had thought the Cow would be a pushover. But she moved extraordinarily fast and had fierce strength. She had broken numerous wooden swords – usually across her opponents’ head or body – and a kick to another opponent when she was down had broken several of the young girl’s ribs. Severus had just strapped up the ribs and the girl was made to carry on. Birkita reckoned she was as good as dead.
The Paradise Ghetto Page 19