by Sheila Finch
He could hear the sea’s sighing breath under the wild cries of the gulls and cormorants. The tide was fully out now, and he smelled the exposed kelp beds, dark and green. He imagined the girls and women, just out of sight, harvesting the mussels and cockles that were now exposed, and the tasty oysters that were this bay’s treasure. Sea and land were kind to the Regni. There was something here Rome could never match, no matter how useful her gifts.
“Do you remember how often we walked these paths when we were young?” He used the Old Tongue, the syllables sliding like clear rainwater over his lips. “In summer, with the moon rising – until your uncle came after me with a switch!”
She stopped and looked up at him. “I thought we would walk together for ever.”
“And so we shall!”
She shook her head. “I can’t agree to it.”
“Your Druid family suspected me of wooing you because you were a princess of the Regni, a tribe that I, as a Catuvellauni had been given to rule.”
“Even then, I knew that was not true.”
Hand in hand, they walked further into the trees. Hidden in this grove of old oaks and willows, the ancient shrine stood, a low three-sided hut of limestone boulders, brought from far away in the west to house the Maiden’s altar. In his memory, it had been larger and grander, but that was because he’d been a young man giddy with love.
“You remember?” she asked.
“Do you doubt that?”
Breca let go of his hand and stepped over the threshold. The little altar was covered in dry leaves a recent wind had brought inside. She brushed them carefully off the stone. Under them, he saw a knot of wildflowers someone had left as an offering, dry now. And a pile of smooth river stones, Sulis’s emblem.
“This isn’t of my choosing,” he said. “I had no power to refuse the emperor.”
“Our son is a hostage, Togi? Is that what you fear to tell me?”
“Mo more and no less than the Roman girl, Antonia .”
“A hostage.”
“I promise you –”
She put a finger on his lips silencing him. “It’s not wise to take oaths in Sulis’s house. Oaths you cannot keep.”
Again, his heart churned. How unfair it was of her to put it like that! As if he’d had a choice! But as swiftly as the resentment came over him, it went away.
“As Sulis is my witness, one thing I can promise you. I will never take the Roman girl to bed. No one can force me to betray my vow to you. You alone have my heart.”
She sighed. “The world itself has changed, Togi. You told me I must remember. The Maiden’s name is Minerva now.”
There was something he could do to distract her from dark thoughts of Amminus in Rome. “I’ll build that temple for you in Noviomagus that I promised – a large and beautiful one. Together we’ll dedicate it to Minerva-Sulis. And to Neptune, ruler of the sea, our father.”
“A Roman temple means nothing to me. Once you would’ve known, Togi.”
He fumbled in the pocket in his tunic and drew out the silver hair comb she’d dropped on the night he’d returned from Rome.
“I wanted you to know I kept you in my heart when I was away.”
She looked at the trinket on the palm of his hand, touched it with one finger. “Amber for peace,” she said softly. “Patience, too.”
“Have patience with me, Breca.”
“No good will come of your desire to please Rome above all else. Don’t you see that?”
“I’ll find a way –”
“I keep thinking of Amminus.”
“It’s for Amminus that I’m doing this! Can’t you accept that?”
She turned and walked out of the shrine. In the space of a moment, he couldn’t see her among the tall grasses.
He glanced at the silver comb, still in his hand. He put it on Sulis’s stone and went to find his horse.
CHAPTER TEN
Rain had turned the little garden into a lake today, or she would’ve walked her frustration off outside. The weather was yet another burden of her exile. She’d been here a little more than two weeks already, but it felt like a lifetime! Why couldn’t it just storm and be done? This all-day drizzle was depressing.
With nothing better to do, she visited the kitchen – cramped and inefficient, like everything else. The cook either was too stupid to understand Latin, or truculent, and it still took far too long to get her to prepare a sparse but proper Roman meal.
But this was where she was going to have to live for now. It was the first time she could ever remember being on her own, to make her own decisions, no father or brother to overrule her. The old barbarian didn’t count, and he didn’t seem interested in her anyway. So whether she wanted to be here or not, she needed to claim her own power in this house.
The first problem was that her mother had taught her some things, but she hadn’t taught her how to control a household. But surely it couldn’t be that difficult! The first thing to do was teach the cook how to prepare food the Roman way, and that she knew. That rabbit there, on the stone cutting slab, the old woman was sawing at it as if it were a tree! She seized the knife out of the woman’s grasp and ran a finger down the blade. Too blunt, it needed sharpening. She didn’t see a whet stone nearby, but she did see a gleaming knife with a sharper blade.
“Now, pay attention and I’ll teach you how it’s done.” She was no stranger to knives and kitchens.“There. See where I made the first cut to remove the pelt? It comes off easier now.”
But either the old woman was too stupid to get anything right, or too cunning. If they’d been in Rome, her mother would’ve had the slave whipped. She swept the cut pieces off the board into the waiting stew pot and added beans and chopped cabbage leaves, olive oil, leeks and garlic for seasoning the bland flesh. The old cook looked at her, then added a small handful of oysters still in their shells, and a little wine. There was something defiant in that action, as if the woman resented the cooking lesson she’d just been given.
She had just sat down at the table with Lucia and Nikolaos when she heard a horse whinny. She glanced out the unshuttered window and saw her husband dismount from the horse and hand the reins over to the stable lad. He’d been gone all day again. She was certain he was avoiding her, for which she was grateful, but it only postponed the discussion they must soon have. She’d spent long hours – days! – thinking over what had to happen to make this intolerable situation bearable. The time was overdue for her to lay out the terms under which she’d live here peacefully until she could plan her return to Rome.
Patchy sunlight slanted through the open door, laying a path of brightness across her table. He filled the doorway with his tall frame and blocked it. With his back to the light, she couldn’t read his expression, but she saw the slumping shoulders. She wondered what he did every day. An old barbarian, she’d called him, that first day she’d set eyes on him in Nero’s palace, and so he was.
“We are about to eat.” She was careful to keep her tone neutral. “Join us.”
He stared at her for a moment as if he’d forgotten who she was or how she’d come to be in his house. He nodded and came to the table, bringing the smell of rain with him.
She clapped her hands to summon one of the kitchen servers. No one came except Lucia followed by Niko. Her husband – she’d better get used to the word for the time being -- sat patiently at the table, avoiding her eyes.
“Niko, will you please serve Tiberius.”
He appeared surprised to hear her use his Roman name. She certainly wasn’t going to call him by that barbaric Britanni mouthful! The Greek set the bowl in front of him and let him serve himself.
“Tiber! Tiber!” Lucia chanted. “Are you a river?”
“Lucia!”
“Well, Tiber’s a river. Niko told me.”
“But Tiberius was an emperor,” the Greek said, pouring water mixed with honey and a little wine for the child.
“I have to call him something.”
“The Tiber is a very fine river,” Tiberius said. “Bigger than the ones we have around here.”
“Show me rivers around here?”
She was astounded to see that rather than appear offended by the child’s forwardness, Tiberius smiled at her. This rare display of friendliness made her uncomfortable. She didn’t want them all to be friendly together. She wanted to go home.
“Eat your meal and go to bed!” For a moment, she wished she could accompany the child to bed, but knew she wouldn’t sleep.
Niko took Lucia away. She wasn’t planning on staying here, but she did need to find a female slave. It wasn’t proper for Niko to do it all. Besides, the Greek showed obvious displeasure when she asked him to play a servant’s role. A heavy woman of middle years entered with a lamp, put it on the table, scowled at both Tiberius and Antonia. Pools of yellow light pushed the gathering darkness to the edges of the room; shadows jumped across the table, and Tiberius’s face became suddenly ancient and deeply lined. The servant refilled their wine cups and took away the empty food plates.
“Your slaves aren’t well-trained, Tiberius. In fact, they are most rude.”
He busied himself with his cup, moving it around on the table as if he were planning a battle and the cup represented his army.
“I’ve been here for several days now, and still they can’t follow my orders. Why is that?”
“They have their own opinions.”
“I don’t understand. They’re slaves. Slaves don’t have opinions.”
“No. They’re freemen. Servants.”
“I would’ve thought –”
“What you might’ve thought in Rome doesn’t count here.”
The hardness of his tone caught her like a slap on the cheek. “I’m going back to Rome as soon as I can! But until then, I expect those who serve me to behave according to their status.”
“What makes you think you can go back, when the emperor himself sent you away?”
She stared at him. “He was inebriated. He’ll come to his senses and welcome me back.”
He shook his head.
The rest of the meal passed in silence. Tiberius ate very little, and her own appetite had shrunk since her bout with the sea malady. The room was growing chilly; she wished she’d put on a palla. In the silence, she heard the patter of rain begin again.
“This house is cramped and cold and uncomfortable. You can’t expect me to stay here.”
He had an odd way of raising his bushy eyebrows when he was surprised. “What do you intend to do about it?”
“I can’t believe the emperor meant for me to raise Lucia here.”
The window showed a quick flicker of lightning, storm approaching. The oil lamp was sputtering, not burning true, and she could smell the sooty smoke. Couldn’t they even get oil lamps right in this damp island? She thought of the pleasant evenings when the warmth of the day lingered over her father’s vineyards where the grapes would almost be ready for harvest, stars shining in a cloudless, indigo sky. The villa in Pyrgi – gone forever. And her father dead by his own hand. The frustrations and anxiety of the last few days overwhelmed her. The rough wine she’d drunk didn’t help. Tears welled up again – she cried altogether too much these days. She was so tired! But they had to have this conversation and get it over with. Thunder boomed; she felt the vibration in her bones.
“You know the emperor is the child’s father?”
“I’d heard rumors.” His tone was neutral. He busied himself with his food, avoiding her eyes.
“He would acknowledge her immediately if it weren’t for his enemies.”
“Ah.”
“You don’t have the right to know any more than that – even if you are my husband! At least, you’re my husband for the time being.”
She wanted to fight him, to shout and berate, but he was obviously not going to argue. She took a deep breath. “I’m willing to make a pact with you. I’ll live civilly with you until I can go back to Rome. You will treat me with the respect and comfort due a wife. But I won’t consummate this false marriage. Don’t you even imagine for one moment that I will!”
“Of course not!” He looked surprised. “An acceptable contract. Thank you.”
She looked away from him. It didn’t help that he was being reasonable.
Thunder shook the house. The sound of the rain on the roof and the colonnade outside was deafening. Tiberius stood up and looked out the door. Beyond him, she saw a sheet of water pouring down from the overhang, lit by another lightning flash like a temple trick performed by an unscrupulous priest to suggest Jupiter’s presence.
He waited for the next roll of thunder to pass. “This is typical sea weather. It won’t last for long. I was expecting it. I saw gulls flying far inland. They always know what’s coming.”
She was so homesick for her warm, sunny Roman countryside in that moment. “I hate this rain!”
“It rains in Italia too.”
“Not like this! I don’t want to be here.”
“Do you think I want you here?” he replied sharply.
Her control gave way and she put her hands on her face and sobbed. “At home...it doesn’t... I wish....” She couldn’t finish the thought.
After a moment he got up from the table. He stood stiffly, not looking at her. “I’m going to Noviomagus in a couple of days. You should come with me.”
“Why would I want to see where barbarians live?”
He gazed at her for a moment and she was afraid she’d gone too far.
“I – I didn’t mean that.”
“I know a Roman lady you would enjoy visiting. Would that please you?”
She wiped tears off her cheeks. “It might.”
He nodded to her before he left. “Good night, Antonia.”
A Roman woman to visit – someone who’d understand her longing to go home. It was a little comfort, but sometimes, her father used to say, a very small log is enough to save a drowning sailor.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The storm had washed out part of the road between the house and Noviomagus and blown down several small trees, compelling the horses to pick their way through the mud. It had been an unusually strong storm; Togidubnus wondered if that portended anything about weather in the season to come. Large puddles were another hazard. Gallus, who refused to ride, claiming the legion lived on its feet, took Snowmark’s reins and led the Roman girl around the largest of them. Antonia huddled on the mare’s back, wrapped in two cloaks, her own and one of his; she suffered unusually from the chilly weather. Yet today the sky was clear, and overhead crows swooped and danced in joy, their raucous laughter cascading down the sky.
Taking the Roman girl – he refused to think of her as his “wife” – with him to Noviomagus had seemed a good idea. She was a problem he couldn’t solve, and she acted as if she thought he was the cause of it. Gods willing, a visit to the Roman town and other Romans would take the edge off her sharp tongue.
He was overdue for visit to the basilica, the new building almost completed now where the Regni’s Council of Elders met and the tribe’s justice was dispensed. Had they heard about the girl? Surely they had! Gossip spread fast, especially something they’d consider disgraceful. Add that to the fact that his previous attempts to use superior Roman laws and techniques to better the life of his folk were frequently misunderstood as a betrayal of the old ways. As if he were less Regni because he wanted to better their lives. What they did not understand was that the old times were gone and wouldn’t come back. The Romans were here to stay. They were all Romans now.
But once he had Amminus back he’d find a way to put Antonia out of his life and get his family together again.
They passed the short stretch of wall that the Second Augusta had begun years ago when the Romans had planned to make Noviomagus a strong fort, but so far the walls remained unfinished, a mix of hard-packed earth and mortared stones. He remembered those days from his childhood, when his own house had been little more than a granar
y and stable for the legionaries, favored because of its closeness to the sea and the little supply port.
The basilica he needed to visit lay at the crossing of the two main arteries, the boundary road Cardo Maximus and the Decumanus Maximus, the road that marked the edge of the military garrison. The roads were noisy and cluttered with horse-drawn carts rumbling over the cobblestones, and peddlers on foot, their wares dangling from yokes slung over their shoulders. Four legionaries marched past, escorting a shackled fifth on his way to punishment; the prisoner’s face was bloody.
From the center of the town, streets of merchants and residents followed an orderly grid, a small imitation of a Roman city. Very small! Noviomagus would hardly count as more than a village compared to Rome itself. A couple of officials who had family with them lived in houses in Noviomagus. If Minerva smiled on his mission today, he’d find someone at home and willing to entertain Antonia. A little further on, past this central intersection, there was a narrow street of finely built houses, one of which housed the family of Marcus Favonius, the centurion who commanded the region’s troops. He stopped the horses at the entrance, marked by a banner displaying the Second Augusta’s Pegasus emblem, and waited. Soon an old Regni man came out and took the reins. He dismounted. Gallus helped Antonia.
A female slave appeared – Celt, by the look of her, but not one of his own Regni – and showed them through the arch into the atrium; Gallus waited outside. He hadn’t been here for a while, and the owners had added several features, one of them a marble fountain, a dolphin spewing water into a basin that Breca would like, when he could see clearly how he could afford to make improvements to his house –
“Tiberius!”
A plump, round-faced Roman matron swept towards them, arms outstretched. Her dark hair was held back with an elaborate silver comb; more silver, laced with amber beads, circled her neck. She wore a white linen tunic, edged with green and gold, so fine that only the warmth of her house made it possible to wear on such a chilly day. A very small girl child clutched at her leg. Legally she wasn’t the centurion’s wife, for centurions like the legionaries they commanded were forbidden to marry, but she might as well have been in this far corner of the empire. She would be the last person to scorn him for his own marital problems.
