The Sign of The Blood

by Laurence OBryan

  “I am sorry I left you. We packed up and went in two days. No one was allowed outside the camp. He did it deliberately, that Legate. Treated us worse than his slaves. It was two years before I was granted a pass to seek you both out. By then the border fort we had constructed, and the village nearby were all gone, burnt to ashes. I searched for you, looked in every town between Armenia and the Middle sea, but eventually I had to give up, go back to my legion or be considered a deserter. Where were you both, Juliana?” He sounded wary, suddenly, as if he too was doubtful.

  It all sounded right. How could he know these things? A well of emotion opened inside her. Tears came. She rubbed them away. They kept coming. She let them roll down her cheeks. She’d wept often and so deeply after they’d made her a slave. But then they had dried up as she’d grown used to slavery and the memories of her life before had faded.

  “We lived deep in Persia with my mother’s people. I don’t even remember it. But she thought I should mix more with my father’s blood. She had to listen to endless jibes about half-castes in Persia. We went to live near Nisibis, on the border. I was captured by a Persian army. Then taken as a slave by Romans.”

  The old man’s head bowed further as she spoke, as if she had struck him. “Nisibis. Yes, your mother had lived there before. I remember that.” He took a step toward her.

  Doubts reared again. Had she really found her father?

  “What stories did you tell my mother?” Only her real father could know the right answer to that.

  His eyes narrowed, and he looked up in the air, as if searching for a memory. “I told her many things, about Britannia, Gaul, Rome and about the great Chieftains of the Brigantes.”

  “What chieftains?” she pressed.

  The old man looked perplexed.

  “Yes, I told your mother many stories about Queen Arell. I remember it now. Your mother loved stories about strong women.”

  She felt as if she was falling, as if the ground had been removed. This was her father.

  “I told her our daughter, you, were descended from that great queen, as I am. She was the queen of the ravens and the wolves. The blood of the Brigantes' mightiest warriors runs through you. Did your mother not tell you?”

  “She did. I did not believe her.”

  She hugged him awkwardly then and their tears flowed. She hugged him tighter and tighter as if the pain of waiting so long to find him could only be healed by feeling the warmth of his body around her. Afterwards she wanted so much to be back again with her mother, to somehow show him to her, to tell her that she had found him, but she couldn’t, and she had to accept that.

  “Come now,” said her father. “Meet your brothers.” He motioned toward a doorway at the far end of the room. Juliana had barely noticed it. Standing in the shadows was a small woman in a dark striped gown. A solemn black-haired boy about seven years old stood beside her. He was wearing a blue tunic. An older boy, a man really, watched from over his mother’s shoulder. She'd been so close to them all and hadn't known it. Her mouth opened in shock.

  Time flashed past as they welcomed her. The years of agony she’d been through, alone, unable to speak her mind, unsure if she would die each day, waiting for the whip, diminished with every moment as they crowded around her.

  They ate breakfast together at the table. It was the happiest meal in as long as she could remember. A spread of cheeses, honeyed bread and hot porridge was served. They all sat for a long time, listening in wonder to Juliana’s tale of how she came to be here. Tiresias made a joke about her wandering further than he had. Everyone laughed. The boys’ Latin was not as good as her father’s, but with some help from him and her new stepmother they all managed to understand just about everything she said.

  Their mood turned serious when she told them about Sybellina, though she left out some of the details.

  “Only those who have lost their freedom, know its true worth,” said Tiresias. “Most treat it as a child treats a toy.” He took the little boy's hand, whispered something in his ear. The boy brightened.

  “You must stay with us, Juliana,” said her father. “We'll buy your freedom, whatever price Lucius cares to want. You have found your real family. Aye, I'm sure when Sybellina's gone you'll fit in with us like a missing pelt on a fine cloak.” His wife nodded. Her little brother jumped up and down with excitement.

  She was being borne along on a current. And it felt right. Then she remembered Constantine and she felt torn. She looked down. His offspring was growing inside her. She opened her mouth. The words wouldn’t come for a moment. Everyone stared at her.

  “I’m sorry, I cannot stay with you. Not now. There are things I must. . . It's not that I . . .” She looked from face to disappointed face. “It’s not that I'm ungrateful. It's . . .” She bowed her head. She couldn't tell them the things in her heart. They’d been locked away too tight. Fortunately, Tiresias finished what she’d begun.

  “Juliana's destiny is twined already with another. Someone who might help our people beyond the wall. Aye, much might change because of this. The coming Roman campaign might still be disrupted. Their standards turned away from Caledonia’s doors. Sometimes a slave can lead their master.” He winked at her. “If their heart is true.”

  Juliana shook her head. How could she influence Constantine? She didn’t even know if he wanted her.

  “Aaah, and I nearly forgot, I have a gift for you, Juliana. Charms to help you on your journey.” Tiresias took two thin snakeskin bracelets from a pouch attached to his belt. He handed them to her.

  “If you wish to hold your lover close, girl, give him one of these. It will smooth his path and bind him to you for as long as he wears it and you wear yours.”

  She took the bracelets, put the smaller one on her wrist, reached up to her throat for the necklace Constantine had given her. Then she remembered. Sybellina must have taken it. A tiny shudder passed through her as memories of her ordeal came flooding back.

  “Something bothers you,” said Tiresias.

  She didn’t want to say it, but she needed to tell someone. “I used Sybellina’s love charm to gain Constantine’s affection. But she took the necklace he gave me, so she’ll be able to pull his affections back to her.” There was desperation in her tone. As she spoke the words it came to her clearly how she might lose Constantine.

  “You know how to use love charms?” said Tiresias.

  She looked from face to face. Would they be angry that she was using powers from beyond the veil? But what she saw in the expressions around her was expectation, not fear.

  “Sybellina taught me a little. My mother did too.”

  “What did your mother teach you?” said Wehwalt. He was leaning forward across the table, his eyes wide.

  “Only a little. She was going to teach me more, but I was captured. All she really taught me was how to see the future in dreams.”

  Tiresias reached toward her hands, motioned her to hold them out. His eyes had half shuttered now, as if he was almost asleep. “That is no small thing. I felt some power in you before. This must be what kept you awake even after taking Sybellina’s sleeping draught.”

  She held her hands out.

  “Close your eyes.”

  She did so.

  He pulled her hands forward, then pushed them together, palm up, as if she was holding water before drinking.

  “Do not open your eyes, Juliana. Keep your hands steady and tell me what you feel.” Tiresias removed his hands from around hers.

  She waited and waited. She felt nothing, just the hard-wooden seat under her and the tension in her arms as she held out her hands. All she could hear was the soft breathing around her and in the distance the cawing of birds. She hadn’t noticed that before, but it seemed now as if there were birds nesting in the roof.

  Cold crept up slowly from her feet. Her open sandals didn’t give them much protection, but she usually didn’t notice the cold.

  She was floating now, thoughts chasing each other thr
ough her mind. She said the prayer her mother had taught her for dream reading, repeating it over and over in her mind to suppress her own thoughts and allow the reading power to come forth.

  Queen of Heaven, help me. Queen of Heaven, help me. Her lips moved, but she did not say the words out loud.

  She held herself as still as she could, her hands up, still waiting for whatever he was going to put in them.

  And then she felt it. Warm, round, like the bottom of a glass jug. She tightened her grip around it. No, it wasn’t a jug. It was a glass ball. And it was getting warm. She opened her eyes. Her hands were empty. She drew them back, quickly.

  Tiresias’s mouth jerked open, as if he’d been slapped. He stepped back, his eye wide.

  “What did you feel?”

  “A glassy ball.” Her tone was high pitched. “I was sure it was there.” She looked at her palms, then pressed them flat onto the table, to rid the warm sensation from them. She stared at Tiresias.

  “Do not be afraid. I sent a simple message from my mind to yours, that is all. This cannot harm you.” He touched his hands to his mouth, as if feeling for blood.

  There was none.

  “You have great powers.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “The one with the power is you. Only one in ten thousand of the daughters of the raven and the wolf have the power to feel what is in another’s mind.” He turned to Wehwalt, pointed at him, and then at the rest of her new family in turn. “You will speak nothing of what happened this day to anyone. If you do you will surely bring every troublemaker this side of the Middle Sea down on us all. This must be kept blood secret. Do you so swear?”

  Nods came from every head, though it came slowest from her stepmother’s.

  Tiresias turned to Juliana. “Do not be afraid. Tell no one and practice your gift only when you are alone. Listen for the thoughts of others and their intentions. You will have the power of the raven to see ahead into the future. Be careful though. You may find that others want you to use your power for themselves, if they discover you have this skill. But you have the power of the wolf too, the power to survive any calamity the world can throw at you.”

  Juliana pressed her hands into her thighs. Questions raced through her mind. Her mother had said she was a good dream reader, but she’d assumed many had such powers. She kept her voice low as she spoke.

  “Does this mean it will be hard for Sybellina to sway Constantine’s heart?” She knew by asking this she had betrayed her greatest fear, but she didn’t care.

  Tiresias raised his hands, palms toward her. “Sybellina is a witch of Rome. They boil the bones of babies to heal their patrons and use their nakedness to bewitch any man they choose. I do not know how strong your lover’s affection is for you, but it will need rekindling if you are to defend it from Sybellina’s wiles.”

  “I must ask you also to help our cause,” said her father, leaning forward.

  “What cause?” she said.

  “Our cause is the fate of the tribes beyond the wall, and the fate of all our kin who are free from Rome’s grip.” He paused, coughed. He looked older than ever.

  Tiresias continued for him. “The Roman emperor plans something for everyone beyond the wall this summer. He speaks of slaughtering every man, woman and child and burning every village and salting every field as a warning to the tribes in the south and across the seas not to raid and not to plunder, or Rome will reach their homes and kill every kin they have.” He shook his head. “The emperor wishes for a triumph to seal his glory in Rome.”

  Her father put a hand on hers. “The legions must be stopped.”

  She gripped her father’s hand. “I do not have the power to stop them, but if a chance comes for me to help in any way, I will, I swear.”

  He opened his arms. They hugged. Everyone in the room hugged her in turn. Wehwalt was last. He whispered in her ear as he did so. “You were foreseen. You are more powerful than you know.”

  LXI

  Eboracum, Northern Britannia, 306 A.D.

  While Juliana slept, Tiresias was busy. He headed by a wide circuit, checking at every turn that he wasn’t followed, to a tavern by the east gate. It was the area of the city where traders from beyond the empire gathered to tell tall tales and find whores who didn’t mind what type of payment they got, Roman silver or Pictish spirit-imbued gem stones.

  “I thought you weren’t coming,” said the tall, raven-haired girl with the feather tattoos on her bare left shoulder. Her dark eyes were wide in the light from the oil lamps.

  Tiresias knew that her wide pupils meant she’d been drinking more than the common wine the tavern served. She’d been drinking she-wolf blood, a potent mix which could transport the drinker beyond the veil to the spirit world.

  “The time is drawing near,” said Tiresias. “Join the whores who service the Roman garrison. But set your price far above what the ordinary legionary can pay. We will arrange for you to be seen by the master of the palace.”

  The girl scowled. “I will fuck anyone, you know that, if it will bring death to our enemy.” She leaned closer to Tiresias. Sparkles of blue shone in her hair from the lamp light. “Will this?”

  He put a hand out and cupped her breast through her deerskin tunic.

  “You have been blessed by the mother with the power to stop an empire. Your chance is coming to use this power, Inion. Make no mistakes.” He squeezed hard.

  She reached across fast, took his neck in her hand, and squeezed it.

  “You had better be speaking the truth, old man. If you are not, and I whore myself for nothing, I will find you and cut your head off and eat your brains after roasting your skull for a whole night. That should kill the taste of the old man I could smell from the moment you came in this room.”

  Tiresias looked her in the eye. “A new age is dawning. You will help its birth. An age of love will be born from death. I accept your challenge, bitch.”

  She released her grip. His neck was red from where she’d held him, but he didn’t flinch or rub at it.

  But his voice was even more of a growl when he spoke. “Tell your brothers and their friends to find a place inside the walls of Eboracum. We will need a diversion and at least ten swords at the new moon.”

  “Only ten,” she replied, laughing. “No problem.” She lifted her hand and waved at someone behind him.

  Tiresias turned. The table behind them was packed with young men. Many had the blue dot tattoos of Pictish outcasts on their foreheads. They all, to a man, had their goblets up to salute the daughter of the wolf, Inion MacTire. Each had a smile on his face, as if they were smitten.

  LXII

  Eboracum, Northern Britannia, 306 A.D.

  Juliana and Tiresias left Eboracum the next morning. There was no time for waiting, he said. Her father provided the horses and a pass from his smithy showing they were on an errand. Parting from her new-found family was difficult, but her father made it easier by promising she’d always have a place to return to, and if she ever needed the gold to buy her freedom, she’d have it.

  She was thrilled at that, but nervous about where fate was now leading her. Her life had been given back to her by her escape from Sybellina and she was sure her father was right, something hidden inside her had helped, but she also knew that the powers of the raven and the wolf were such that anyone gifted with these powers not only had the power of foresight, but also had the taint of death around them.

  “Be careful, Juliana, you are one of us now,” her father said as she mounted her horse.

  “I know,” she replied. After a wave goodbye she rode out into the street with Tiresias ahead.

  She wondered if they'd made the right decision as they approached the city gate. Running to Lucius didn't seem such a good idea now she was doing it. Perhaps she should have stayed hidden with her new family. With them she'd felt safer than she had in years.

  As they came near the gate she was sure at any moment Sybellina would appear and call for her to be arrested. T
iresias smiled when he turned to her. She reluctantly returned it.

  And what would Lucius' reaction be to her unannounced arrival? Would he believe her story? She’d wanted to ride directly to Gaul when she'd seen the bronze pass her father had given them, but Tiresias had insisted that Lucius had to be found first.

  “You'll need more than a smithy's pass to get onto a Roman galley and cross to Gaul,” he'd said. “Your father's pass will be of no use further than Lindum. I know these things.” He’d tapped his nose.

  She felt a surge of hope, though, as she thought about the confirmation of her bloodline from the great Queen that her father had told her all about. Constantine could make her his wife, if he wanted, now. There was so much she had to tell him.

  As they passed under the stone arch of the city gate, to her great relief, no one took any notice of them at all. They didn't even have to show their pass.

  They rode hard all that morning. Moorland turned to forest and the cobbled road with its neat curbstones turned into a raised causeway made of heavy gravel. Long sweeping vistas of wooded glades opened up around them. Sometimes the trees and banks of brambles or bracken grew in an impenetrable wall right up to the road.

  They rode further and further, thrusting on toward Caledonia. She noticed a gradual change in the landscape, an occasional and sudden glimpse of a bleaker wilderness. The cloud-swept sky drove squalls of rain onto them as it got slowly darker, but Tiresias pressed on until eventually he found shelter for them in an abandoned farmhouse.

  A jug of watered wine had been left there by someone and some hard week-old bread wrapped tightly in a deerskin. They ate it all with chunks of dry sausage they’d been given by her stepmother. That night, as she waited to sleep, she thought about her new family. She prayed her journey would not end in disappointment and that she’d see them again.