by K. M. Ashman
‘You do not know this.’
‘Trust me, I am Roman and know how it works.’
‘Then where does this leave us, Roman?’ asked Blackthorn, ‘I will not see my people die for the sake of one child.’
‘There is no need,’ said Dragus, ‘let the woman recover and allow us to be on our way. No one need ever know we were here and you can go about your business as before.’
‘And my son?’
‘He has the choice of a hundred women, his attention will soon settle elsewhere.’
‘I have another way,’ said Blackthorn, ‘I could just kill you all and feed you to the pigs. No one would ever know of your time here.’
‘You could,’ said Dragus, ‘but what man would risk the wrath of a goddess as powerful as Vesta. Kill one of her priestesses and her fury would descend upon your people like the worst storm you have ever seen.’
‘Do you threaten me, Roman?’
‘No, great chief, I only seek what is best for all of us.’
Blackthorn sat back in silence, staring at the foreigner. He was afraid of nothing apart from the gods but as a child he had also seen the power of the Romans. He knew that Dragus was telling the truth.
‘Tomorrow, when the child is born, we will decide,’ he said, ‘but tonight we will drink.’ He threw the wine skin over to Dragus. ‘Drink deep, Roman, there are plenty more skins to drain before the sun rises.’
Dragus unplugged the stopper with his teeth and lifted the neck up to his mouth. He had played the game and the die was cast. Their fates were now in the hands of the gods and a certain unborn baby.
----
The following morning saw the entire village gathered in silence around the cave entrance. Word had been sent that the birth was imminent and Dragus dragged himself from the quilt of furs where he had fallen several hours earlier. He left the hut and dipped his head in a horse trough to bring himself around. There was no sign of the chief but he followed the crowd up to the cave and made his way to the front of the throng. Blackthorn and his son were already there, neither showing any sign of the heavy drinking session.
‘You must have the head of an ox,’ said Dragus.
‘And you, a stomach of a child,’ answered Blackthorn.
‘It seems I underestimated the strength of your ale.’
A commotion at the cave drew their attention. An old woman came out and talked in hushed whispers to the smaller group. Two of the women rushed into the cave while another came quickly down the slope to speak to the chief, talking in a dialect Dragus couldn’t understand. When she had finished, the chief dismissed her and she made her way quickly back up to the cave.
‘What’s the problem?’ asked Dragus.
‘Things do not go as expected,’ said the chieftain.
Dragus stepped forward to make his way up to the cave but the grip of the chieftain on his arm prevented him.
‘This business is not for men,’ he said, ‘the women are with her, leave it to them.’
‘She may need me,’ said Dragus.
‘She has her slave and her goddess,’ said Blackthorn, ‘with their help she will survive.’
----
Inside the cave, Rose stood to one side, waiting for the midwives to finish their work. Rubria had already given birth but it had been a difficult delivery. The sound of the baby crying was a welcome relief to all, however, now the attention of the old women was totally focussed on the mother. Gradually, one by one they left the priestess’s side until only one was left.
Rose walked forward, her heart sinking and the old woman moved out of the way. Rose fell to her knees alongside Rubria, tears flowing like rivers down her face.
‘Mistress,’ she whispered, picking up one of Rubria’s hands.
The priestess opened her eyes and tried to focus on the slave who had become her friend.
‘Rose?’ she whispered.
‘Yes, mistress,’ said Rose, ‘I am here.’
‘Is the child well, Rose?’
‘Yes, miss, you have a beautiful baby girl. I will bring her to you.’
‘Wait,’ said Rubria, ‘there are things that must be said.’
‘There will be time for words later, miss,’ said Rose.
‘No there won’t,’ said Rubria, ‘I have learnt enough of these peoples words to know I am dying.’
Rose’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to burst from her very soul.
‘Rose,’ continued Rubria, ‘we have come a long way you and I and you are a free woman but there is something I would ask of you.’
‘Anything,’ whispered Rose.
‘The child,’ said Rubria, ‘I want you to care for her as if she was your own. Bring her up in the ways of the goddess. Teach her the devotions and the rituals that have been part of me for as long as I can remember. Will you do that?’
Rose nodded and wiped the tears from her face with the sleeve of her shawl.
‘Of course I will,’ she said.
‘Also,’ said Rubria, weakly, ‘the child will need a father to protect her. Make an honest man of Dragus and take him as your husband.’
‘I am a slave, miss, I am not sure he will see me as a suitable match.’
‘You are a free woman, Rose and I have seen the way he looks at you, but men are stupid in these matters, you will have to take the lead. Besides, the attraction seemed mutual in the darkest hours of the cold nights.’
‘You have heard us?’ asked Rose, feeling the blush starting on her cheeks.
‘Don’t fret, Rose,’ said, the priestess, ‘you have your needs and truth be told, there were times when I envied the protecting embrace of a man when I was afraid. Alas, it seems the mother has other plans for me.’
‘Oh, miss,’ started Rose.
‘Wait,’ said Rubria, ‘there is one more thing you must do.’ She spent the next few minutes explaining the task to her friend before collapsing weakly back onto the furs.
‘I grow tired,’ she said, ‘do you understand everything I have said.’
‘Yes, miss,’ said Rose, ‘though it is a big undertaking.’
‘I know you can do it, Rose,’ said Rubria. ‘Now, bring me my daughter so I can take the memory of her into the next life.’
Rose stood up and collected the baby from one of the women remaining in the cave. She placed her in the arms of the priestess and pulled the linen cloth back from around the child’s head so Rubria could see her face.
‘She’s beautiful,’ whispered Rubria, her own tears beginning to roll.
The baby woke up and gazed into her mother’s eyes for the first and last time.
Rubria gasped in astonishment.
‘Holy Mother,’ she whispered, ‘look at her eyes, Rose, have you ever seen any so beautiful?’
Rose looked down and though the imminent death of her priestess was foremost in her mind, the astonishing depth of blue that stared back at her was like nothing she had ever seen.
‘She is truly blessed by the goddess,’ she said.
‘Look after her, Rose.’
‘I will, miss,’ replied the girl, ‘by all the gods in the heavens, I promise you, she will be brought up safe and happy in the ways of Vesta.’
‘Then I will die happy,’ said Rubria.
----
Outside the cave, the crowd had fallen silent and Dragus sat with his back against a tree waiting to be told something. Finally, the morning air was shattered by a chorus of unearthly wails, echoing out of the cave and around the valley.
Dragus jumped to his feet and ran up the hill. This time, nobody tried to stop him. He burst past several women at the cave mouth and entered the cavern, finding Rose kneeling by the side of Rubria’s body, smoothing the sweat-soaked blonde hair back from her cold brow. Any colour had gone and Dragus knew the priestess was dead. He knelt beside Rose and put his arms around her shoulders.
‘What happened?’ he asked.
‘The birth was too much for her,’ said Rose, not ta
king her eyes from the priestess, ‘she gave everything she had but in the end was too weak.’
‘The child?’ asked Dragus, looking around.
‘She is fine,’ said Rose, ‘the midwives are seeing to her needs for now but it is you and I who will raise her. Rubria wished it so.’ She looked up at him through glistening eyes. ‘Is that acceptable?’
‘Of course it is,’ he said.
They stayed with the body for over an hour before the women took it away to prepare for burial. Finally, they were alone.
‘I can’t believe she has gone,’ said Dragus eventually, the words echoing around the cave.
‘She hasn’t,’ said Rose.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Dragus
‘She is here,’ said Rose looking up to the cave ceiling, ‘all around us. Her spirit inhabits these walls and always will.’
‘You don’t know that,’ said Dragus.
‘Oh but I do,’ said Rose, ‘she told me herself before she died.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She made me promise three things,’ said Rose. ‘The first two were to look after both the child and you but the third is a lifetime’s work. She made me promise that I would build a temple to Vesta and bring up the child in the way of the goddess.’
‘Here amongst the Celts?’
‘It is what she wanted,’ said Rose, ‘She thought the order of Vesta would be far more appropriate here than in any city. After all, do not even these simple people have hearths and families? Vesta judges not by material things but by the goodness in people’s hearts.’
‘We cannot build a temple here,’ said Dragus, ‘it would draw the attention of Rome and there would be too many questions, especially while Nero lives.’
‘That is why we must build it in here,’ said Rose, looking around, ‘right here in this cave. No one needs know except those who are devoted. All we need is enough room to establish a central hearth and space for those called to service to lay their heads. Do you think we can do that, Dragus?’
Dragus stared long and hard at the beautiful ex-slave before looking around the gloomy space.
‘I have been told there is a second cavern behind this,’ said Dragus, ‘it has not been used for generations and is filled with rubble but if I can clear that, perhaps there will be enough room.’
Rose took his hands and kissed him gently.
‘Thank you, Dragus,’ she said, ‘now, I have to leave you for a while. I need to pay my respects to her earthly remains and prepare her body for burial. You go and speak to the chief and see if it is agreed that we stay here.’
‘Leave it to me,’ said Dragus and returned the kiss, ‘henceforth my life will be devoted to you, the child and the goddess.’
‘What about the memory of Rubria?’ asked Rose, in mild surprise.
‘As far as I am concerned,’ said Dragus, ‘there is no difference. In my eyes, Rubria embodied the very essence of Vesta herself, she was the goddess.’
----
Dragus didn’t return to the cave and Rose spent a lonely sleepless night on his furs. Finally, she must have fallen asleep for the sound of his voice in the distance dragged her back to consciousness.
‘Rose,’ he called, ‘wake yourself. There is work to be done.’
Rose stood up and wrapping one of the furs around her shivering naked body, walked sleepily to the cave entrance. She squinted against the sunrise before looking down at Dragus on the clearing below.
‘About time,’ called Dragus, ‘the day is almost done.’
‘The day has just started,’ contradicted Rose, staring at the crowd behind him, ‘who are these people?’
‘These,’ said Dragus, ‘are our workforce, Rose. These are the people to build the shrine to Vesta.’
‘The chief has agreed it?’
‘Yes, for he has seen the holiness in the eyes of the child and adopted Vesta as one of his own gods. He has given us fifty slaves for labour, Rose, the rest are volunteers. We have stone workers for statues, miners to enlarge the cavern and foresters to provide the supports. He has even decreed that every villager will provide tribute of food to the temple. I know it is not the temple she craved Rose but until the time of Nero is over, I will make this cave a tribute to the goddess and Rubria herself and in years to come, when Nero is rotting in Hades, we will clear a hill of trees and build a temple in the sunshine that Vesta herself would be proud of.’
Rose gasped in astonishment.
‘Is this really true?’ she asked.
‘It is,’ said Dragus, ‘and the task will be led by Reynard himself. During all that time with Rubria, he became converted to the worship of Vesta.’
Rose looked down at the crowd, unable to take it all in.
‘Well,’ shouted Dragus, ‘do we start or shall I send them all back to the village?’
Rose wiped the tears from her eyes and her face broke into a wide smile.
‘You send them back, Roman and you will be doing all the work yourself. What are you waiting for?’
Dragus returned her smile and gave the signal. The huge workforce flowed past him and up the slope. For a few moments, the centurion and the slave stared at each other over the heads of a hundred workers before she had to move to allow them into the cave. The work on Britannia’s first temple of Vesta had begun.
----
Chapter 35
England 2010
Brandon opened his eyes slowly, wondering where he was. Suddenly he sat up as his memory kicked in and he remembered his predicament. He looked at his watch. Four hours had elapsed since the nun had locked him in and for two of those he had been asleep. At first he had heard people going back and forth outside the room and he had waited nervously for the door to open but nothing happened. He stood up from the dusty mattress where he had fallen asleep and walked to the door, listening to see if there was anything happening.
After a few moments, he heard the faint sound of someone coming up the corridor. These were not the confident footsteps of someone who had a right to be there but considered steps, being careful not to be heard. Brandon thought quickly and when he heard a muffled conversation carried out in whispers, he took a calculated gamble. He stood to one side of the door and held his gun in both hands, barrel facing upwards in the ready position.
‘Bernice,’ he said hesitantly, ‘is that you?’
The voices stopped and silence fell.
‘Bernice,’ said Brandon, ‘if that’s you, you have to let me out. There are lives at risk here.’
The steps came closer and stopped outside the door.
‘Open the door, Bernice,’ said Brandon, ‘please, don’t make this any worse.’
He heard the sound of the bar being slid back and the door swung inwards, creaking on its rusty hinges. Brandon stepped out into the open and levelled his gun at the person in front of him.
‘Bernice,’ said the woman, ‘who the hell is Bernice?’
‘India,’ gasped Brandon in astonishment, ‘what are you doing here?’
‘She’s with me,’ said a male voice and Gatilusi came into view.
‘Gatilusi,’ gasped Brandon, lowering his gun, ‘what on earth is going on here?’
‘Long story,’ said Gatilusi, ‘we can catch up later but suffice to say, there is not much time. Now, I didn’t expect to come across you in these circumstances but there is an advantage to be gained here. This place has secrets we both need to solve if we are to retrieve our respective items.’
‘The girl is not an item,’ snapped India.
‘Whatever,’ said Gatilusi, ‘the point is both seem to be intrinsically linked. I want the Palladium, nothing more, nothing less and I believe that by finding the whereabouts of the artefact, you have a good chance of finding the girl. Together, we stand a greater chance of not only being successful but also getting out of here alive. What do you say?’
Brandon glanced at India before answering.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I will trust you.’ He
placed his gun back in the holster on the back of his belt.
‘Good,’ said Gatilusi. ‘Right, let’s see what this is all about.’ He turned and made his way up toward the cavern door, closely followed by India and Brandon.
‘What is going on here?’ asked India as they walked.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Brandon, ‘but Sister Bernice told me about a secret inner order within the convent. I think they have something to do with it.’
‘Sister Bernice?’
‘Yes, it’s a long story but I don’t think she is part of this, whatever this is.’
‘Where is she now?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘What about him?’ asked India, indicating Gatilusi’s back.
‘We have no option but to trust him,’ said Brandon, ‘we are on our own here.’
‘Shouldn’t we just call the police?’ asked India
‘Not possible,’ said Brandon, ‘there are no phone lines here and apparently the only place you can get a signal is at the top of the hill at the end of the valley.’
Gatilusi stopped before the giant door to the cavern.
‘Is this the place?’ he asked
Brandon nodded.
‘Then it’s time find out what this is all about,’ he said and kneeling to keep a low profile, eased the door inwards, just enough for them to slip through.
----
Brandon and India joined Gatilusi on the floor and crawled forward behind the protection of the perimeter wall. Very slowly, they peered over and into the temple below. There was no sign of Sister Agnes and the cavern seemed to move eerily in the flickering candle light.
‘Can you see anything?’ whispered India.
‘The Palladium doesn’t seem to be on display,’ said Gatilusi, ‘but that was to be expected.’
‘Sod the statue,’ hissed India, ‘is there any sign of the girl?’
‘No,’ said Brandon, ‘though she may well be in one of those locked cells. If there’s no one here, we can quickly check and get the hell out.’