The Raven's Wing

by Frances Watts

  ‘I can find my way from here,’ I said.

  I expected him to release my arm, but he didn’t, and I was strangely glad of it.

  ‘So is that why you went to the slave market the day …’

  He didn’t finish the sentence; he didn’t have to. He was referring to the day his sister had died.

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  When we reached the entrance to the baths he turned to face me, gripping my forearms. ‘I wish you had come to me,’ he said. ‘If I hadn’t come along …’ He swallowed. ‘Promise me you won’t do anything like this again.’ He shook me gently for emphasis, his dark eyes boring into mine.

  ‘I promise,’ I whispered. The intensity of his gaze made me feel weak.

  ‘And you’ll go straight home?’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ I replied meekly. ‘Thank you.’

  With a final shake of my shoulders he released me and turned and walked away.

  I entered the baths, my cheeks burning. Though grateful to be rescued, I was embarrassed to have been caught in such a sordid situation. I refused to let my mind dwell on what might have happened if he hadn’t come along. But why had he come along? What business could he have in that part of town? I couldn’t imagine the taverns of the quarter held any allure for him.

  I hadn’t intended to bathe, but after my experience in those dirty streets I longed to have oil smeared on my body and feel the scrape of the strigil removing the dirt and sweat from my skin. I felt soiled by the breath of the drunkard, the greedy gaze of the oily man.

  Afterwards I soaked for a long time in the caldarium, remembering Marcus’s deep voice calling me his wife, his black eyes drilling into mine as he left me by the baths. I felt an odd mix of calm and elation.

  Then a laughing voice said, ‘Dreaming of Lucius?’

  The warm water lapped at my chin as Luciana slid onto the step beside me.

  ‘You have broken my brother’s heart, you know,’ she teased. ‘He was very taken with you at …’ Her voice trailed off and I knew she had been about to mention Aurelia’s engagement party. ‘I’m surprised to find you here,’ she said instead. ‘I thought you were still in Oplontis.’

  ‘We only got back yesterday. How did you hear about my engagement so soon?’

  She gave me a look. ‘Really, Claudia, you should know by now that gossip spreads through Rome faster than a fire through an apartment building.’

  I thought of the burned-out building in the Subura and shuddered.

  ‘My mother saw Calpurnia here earlier this morning. She said that Appius met your father and Lucius in the Forum yesterday and they told him the news. I’m so, so sorry about Aurelia — but you are glad to be marrying Lucius, aren’t you? Everyone says your father sees him as another son.’

  ‘Yes, very glad,’ I said, and smiled as I thought of Lucius’s clear eyes and the irresistible curve of his lips. I had only been thinking of Marcus because he had rescued me, I told myself.

  We chatted for a few minutes more, then I stood up. ‘They’ll be wondering where I’ve got to,’ I said, signalling for a towel. ‘See you soon?’

  ‘If you invite me to your wedding,’ Luciana responded. ‘Calpurnia said that Appius told her your father and Lucius were in such a rush to see you married that he wouldn’t be surprised if the ceremony was held yesterday!’

  Stepping back out onto the street was a shock after the tranquillity of the baths. How condescending I had been this morning about Sabine’s world of villas and private baths; I had thought myself so much more worldly, but I had never imagined anything like the squalor and depravity of the Subura.

  As the litter carried me home, I kept the curtains drawn, trying to blank out the horrific scenes that flashed through my mind: the scrawny frame of poor Andalos; reaching the back wall of the alley and realising it was a dead end.

  I was returning Aurelia’s clothes to her room when a sound behind me made me start.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ It was Sabine, her voice suspicious.

  ‘Nothing! Just looking. I miss Aurelia.’ And I did, I thought, wishing I could confide in her everything that had happened — not just with Andalos, but also with Lucius, with her brother and mother. She would understand like no one else did, without judgement or condemnation. I would have gladly given up Lucius to have her back.

  ‘I do too,’ Sabine said, her voice heavy. For a moment we contemplated the room in silence, and I thought she might speak again, perhaps say something about the distance that had grown between us, but abruptly she left the room.

  I went back to my own chamber and took off my cloak. Aballa appeared but I couldn’t bear to meet her gaze, sure that she would read in my eyes everything that I had seen. Snatching up a book I went to the atrium, hoping that poetry would restore my calm.

  Prisca was at her desk. She glanced up and gave me a hard look then returned to her accounts without a word.

  At least she was no longer interested in teaching me to be a good wife; I didn’t miss my struggles with the ledgers one bit. I flung myself onto the couch that had been Aurelia’s favourite and pondered what, if anything, to tell Aballa about the situation of her brother. It might be that the agony of unknowing was preferable to the certainty of his unhappy circumstances.

  I was weighing up these options in my mind when a slave came to me and murmured, ‘Miss?’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Marcus Aquila wishes to speak to you.’

  ‘Well, as you can see, I’m right here.’

  ‘He wishes you to come outside.’

  I was about to protest, but then was struck by the strangeness of Marcus’s request. Why would he need to speak to me outside? He was behaving very mysteriously. I cast a look at Prisca, and saw that she was absorbed in her work. Stealthily, I rose and followed the slave through the entranceway and into the courtyard.

  To my surprise, instead of Marcus I saw a litter held by four slaves, their faces shiny with sweat. I approached cautiously, irritated more than curious now, my nerves still taut from my adventure in the Subura. I was not in the mood for surprises. When I had almost reached the litter, the curtain was drawn back to reveal Marcus.

  ‘Quickly,’ he urged. ‘Come closer.’

  I moved forwards to stand at the litter’s edge. Marcus sat with his cloak at his feet, his face tense.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I asked. ‘Why did I have to come out here to talk to you?’

  Instead of answering, he lifted the cloak a little and I saw that it concealed a fair-haired boy, his eyes closed tightly in terror, his scar vivid against his white face.

  I clutched the edge of the litter. ‘By Castor, what have you done?’

  ‘I went to the Peacock and saw for myself. I, er, I stole him.’

  ‘You what?’ I stared at him.

  ‘They refused to sell him and I was afraid they’d kill him with their beatings. You should see the state of his back.’ He winced. ‘So I went home to fetch a litter and had it wait around the corner. The rope tying him to the table was easily cut. By the time those idiots in the tavern had their wits about them I was concealed in the litter with the boy. I’m planning to take him back to my place in Veii, but I thought you might like to let your girl see her brother first. I’d rather not bring him through the house, though. Neither of our parents would approve of me stealing slaves.’

  ‘I can’t bring Aballa out here,’ I said. ‘Your mother is in the atrium.’ I thought quickly. ‘Bring him into the garden through the stable entrance,’ I suggested. ‘I’ll meet you there. And, Marcus …’ I reached out to press his hand. ‘Thank you.’

  He snatched his hand away with a scowl. ‘I didn’t do it for your sake, Claudia.’

  Stung, I turned on my heel and entered the house. Of course I didn’t think you did it for my sake, I fumed.

  I hurried through the atrium without looking to see if Prisca was watching. I waited at the garden entrance till Marcus arrived, carrying the boy wrapped in the cloak.


  I led him to my bench under the willow tree and Marcus carefully laid Andalos down on his side, saying, ‘I’m worried he might not be in good enough condition to travel, but I daren’t take him to a physician.’

  ‘Couldn’t Theodotus look at him?’

  Marcus shook his head. ‘I considered that. He’d do it, but it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to keep secrets from Gaius and my mother.’

  ‘Sabine then,’ I said. ‘She’ll be able to tend to his wounds.’

  He looked surprised. ‘Do you think so? Well, there’s no harm in asking, I suppose.’

  Sabine was in her bedroom on her bed, staring at the ceiling with a dull gaze. For a moment I feared that she had been struck ill. Or worse …

  ‘Sabine?’ I said.

  She turned her head. ‘Claudia. What are you doing here?’

  ‘Marcus sent me. He’s in the garden with Andalos. He’s injured and we need your help.’

  To her credit, Sabine didn’t hesitate, nor did she ask difficult questions. Sitting up abruptly, she merely asked, ‘Aballa’s brother?’ and when I nodded said, ‘Injured how?’

  ‘He’s been badly beaten. Marcus says his back is a mess.’

  ‘Oak leaves … No, it would take too long to collect them. Oregano. Yes, that can be used as an antiseptic. I’m sure there’s still some in my herb bed.’ Rising, she went to her dressing table for a mortar and pestle.

  ‘I’ll meet you there in a few minutes. I just need to fetch Aballa.’ I returned to the colonnade, where I had seen the slave girl at work polishing my silver comb and mirror.

  ‘Aballa, you must come with me.’

  She looked up.

  ‘Come.’ I beckoned urgently.

  We waited as Sabine picked oregano leaves, then, after putting my finger to my lips, I led them both to the other side of the garden and through the gap in the hedge.

  There I parted the leaves of the willow and gestured for them to step into the green-lit space.

  Aballa glanced back at me, clearly puzzled as to why I had brought her here, but I pushed her forwards. Then her eyes focused on the figure lying on the bench and her face lit up. ‘Andalos!’ she cried softly.

  The boy lifted his head and gave a shout, and we had to hush him.

  Aballa ran to kneel beside her brother. Clasping his hands, she kissed them repeatedly, then began speaking quickly in her own tongue. Tears ran unchecked down her face. To my surprise, Marcus joined in their conversation, though his words were halting.

  ‘You speak Gaulish?’ I asked.

  ‘Only a little. I have some Gaulish slaves at my country place and I learned some words from them.’

  Marcus unwrapped the cloak he had covered the boy with to reveal his back and Aballa gasped, both hands to her mouth to contain her distress.

  Sabine stepped forwards to examine the welts more closely. ‘These look nasty,’ she said.

  ‘Is there something you can do for him quickly?’ Marcus asked. ‘I want to take him back to Veii with me straight away. Someone might recognise him in Rome and then I’d be in a world of trouble.’

  ‘I’ll crush these leaves and bind them to his wounds. That should prevent further infection until you get him home.’ Without looking at me she said, ‘I need some strips of cloth to use for binding.’

  I ran back to my room and pulled one of my old dresses from the wooden chest, then carried it back to the willow tree.

  Reaching into the folds of his toga, Marcus took a knife from the belt of his tunic — the same knife he had used to cut Andalos’s rope? — and made cuts in the fabric of the dress so I could tear it.

  Perhaps fifteen minutes later Marcus and Andalos were ready to depart. With Marcus’s support Andalos was standing now, though hunched terribly from not having stood upright for some months.

  Aballa hugged her brother, careful not to touch his injured back. She said something to Marcus, who said a few words in reply before turning to us. ‘Aballa says she is very grateful, that she had believed Romans were brutes until today.’ He cast a regretful look at Andalos. ‘A great many still are, I’m afraid.’ To me he said, ‘I’ve told Aballa I will send news of Andalos through you, and that she must learn some Latin so she can understand my messages.’

  Finally he bent to kiss Sabine’s cheek. ‘Thank you, little sister,’ he said. ‘I’m impressed by your knowledge of healing. I’ll never laugh about your gardening again.’

  I waited eagerly for Marcus to return to Rome, to hear how things went with Andalos, but there was no sign of him. Sabine enquired as to his whereabouts after a few days had passed, but Prisca only said that he had business up north.

  For some reason I grew desperate to see him before my wedding, which was fast approaching. I needed to know that we were friends, of sorts. I had felt such a strange mix of emotions towards him since he had rescued first me and then Andalos from the Subura.

  Feeling it wouldn’t be right to keep secrets from my fiancé, I tried to raise the subject of Aballa and Andalos one night after dinner as we strolled through the garden. That evening Father had made us a very generous gift.

  ‘I own a house not far from here whose tenants have just moved out,’ he had said diffidently. ‘It’s over on Via Triumphalis. I was thinking I might give it to the two of you for a home after your marriage.’

  ‘It’s a very good address,’ Lucius noted now. ‘We’ll need to live in an appropriate style — for your father’s sake,’ he added hastily. ‘That’ll mean new furniture, horses for the stables, slaves …’

  Seeing my opening, I said, ‘You know Aballa, the girl who looks after my hair and wardrobe?’

  Lucius shrugged. ‘Not really. Why?’

  I started to explain. ‘She’s been very upset because of her brother. He was sold to this tavern, you see, while she came here and —’

  ‘If she’s bothering you, just leave her here at your father’s house when we are married,’ Lucius interrupted.

  ‘No, that’s not it —’

  ‘Or beat her. That’s what my father used to do when slaves moped.’

  He must have seen the horror on my face because he said quickly, ‘Of course, I wouldn’t beat a slave myself. Look, just buy a new slave — buy a dozen new slaves! We can afford it; your father has promised a large dowry as well as a handsome allowance.’ Pulling me to him he wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. ‘Claudia, dear Claudia — hasn’t everything turned out perfectly?’

  ‘It has,’ I said nestling into his embrace. It had been so long since someone had held me; not since I had lived with Aunt Quinta. Oh, to feel loved again … And then I froze. No, I realised. Things hadn’t turned out perfectly at all. Aurelia had had to die for Lucius and me to be together. Had he forgotten that?

  I drew back and looked up into his face to see if the same realisation had registered with him, but he just looked down at me with a tender smile.

  ‘Do whatever you want with the slave,’ he said. ‘I don’t care. I just want you to be happy.’

  Early the next morning, before his clients came calling, Father took us to see the house. It was in a good position, a little way up the slope from the baths.

  The front of the house was given over to a silversmith’s shop on one side and a rug shop on the other, with a passage leading between them to our front door. ‘Naturally, the rent from the shops would come to you,’ my father said.

  We moved through into what would be our living quarters, exclaiming over the marble panelling in the well-proportioned atrium.

  ‘Phrygian purple, Numidian yellow,’ my father said, pointing. ‘I trust this meets with your approval, Lucius?’ Chuckling, he said to me, ‘I’ve never known such an eye for fine details. This young man can reckon the value of a silver dish or a woman’s jewels from the other side of the room.’

  ‘You exaggerate, sir,’ Lucius called. He was already moving away from us, peering into the rooms adjoining the atrium.

  ‘The dining room is
a little small, but look at this!’ he said when I caught up to him. ‘Imagine the parties we could hold here.’

  We stood in silent awe, taking in a reception room nearly equal to the atrium in size.

  We walked through a neat little peristyle garden with a fountain at its centre, and explored the numerous small rooms that opened off it. While Father and Lucius went over the stables, I explored the kitchen and slave quarters. Re-entering the atrium, I noticed that what I had taken to be a wall hanging to the left of the household shrine was in fact concealing the opening to another room.

  ‘This room could be the library,’ I said excitedly to Lucius when he and Father returned.

  ‘A library? What do we need a library for? No, let’s use it as another reception room.’

  I was surprised by his response. I had thought he’d be as excited about the idea of a library as I was.

  ‘It would be nice to have a place where we could keep our favourite books,’ I said. ‘Like Argonautica.’ I smiled.

  ‘Argonautica?’ He looked mystified for a few seconds, then his expression cleared. ‘Oh yes, Jason and the Argonauts, with the love story that Aurelia enjoyed so much. The third book, wasn’t it, or the fourth?’ He shrugged. ‘I can’t recall. I never read it.’ He grinned boyishly.

  He had never read Argonautica? But that moment when he had given me the scroll in the library, he had talked as if he knew it … hadn’t he? Or had I misunderstood him?

  As I struggled to recall the scene, I had a sudden recollection of another library: the small room in Marcus’s house near Veii, the shelves filled with scrolls. The least grand room in the house, but the one he used the most. No! I was not going to think of Marcus.

  I turned from the room I had hoped to make a library and said to my fiancé, ‘You’re right. One can’t have too many reception rooms.’

  Lucius smiled at me, his eyes shining. ‘We’re going to have so much fun together, Claudia.’

  I returned his smile, but inside I felt something like fear.

  I do not know who you are, I realised. I don’t really know your character, and you don’t know mine. So how can we truly love each other if we don’t truly know each other? And if we have made a mistake, it will be a mistake that will last the rest of our lives …