by Nhys Glover
Accalia nodded. “I know. But I have healed the slaves of our estate for years, and I see no difference between them and a freedman, or even a patrician. Men are men, and this one is one of the best of them. He is brave and loyal and loving. He would give his life for me.”
“As he should, regardless of his romantic feelings for you. You are being too foolish. Too foolish...” she paused, thinking fast. “But it is not my place to rebuke you. You saved my granddaughter and her son. For that I owe you a debt of gratitude I cannot repay. I will help you hide on the caravan to Dura and give you a note that will give you passage with any caravan heading north from there. And my family and I will forget we ever had visitors staying with us.”
I looked from the old woman to Accalia, and I could feel her sadness at the woman’s rejection. What had she expected? Class was the foundation of every culture in the world, and a slave occupied the bottom rung of that structure. Maleka couldn’t approve of what we had done.
“You should find yourself a husband quickly. It is less likely you are with child because of your bloods, but if you continue on as you have been doing, then a child might come from your union. It would be the ultimate offence to your paterfamilias if you were to fall pregnant with a slave’s get.”
I felt suddenly light-headed. I hadn’t even considered such a possibility, fool that I was. Hadn’t Accalia said sex during a woman’s monthly flow made her less likely to become pregnant? I’d simply taken that to mean it was possible to have sex then. I’d been so desperate to have her, I didn’t think of anything else. Gods, I was such a lust-addled fool!
“There are herbs I can take that will make me infertile,” Accalia said, her tone challenging again.
“And risk permanent infertility?” Maleka demanded with annoyance. She was treating Accalia like a daughter who had strayed.
“I do not care about having children. My mother had trouble bringing babes to term and the last one killed her. I assume I would have the same difficulty. Such problems can run in families. So I am reconciled. My life is rich enough without children. And I have no plans to marry. My Pater will not force me to. If I cannot have Orion, I will not have anyone.”
“Oh, dear child, you are so young. This passion you feel will give way to more rational thoughts as you grow older. Do not throw your life away on something that cannot last.”
Fury rose up to choke me. Though I had always believed Accalia would one day tire of her affection for us, hearing this woman voice it drove me to madness. I didn’t want to hear this wisdom.
“Mother, was that not what father said when Desereia wished to marry someone not as suitable as the man he had chosen for her? And did making the rational choice not end up killing my sister?” Elenia spoke up, surprising us all. She was ever the dutiful daughter.
She went on. “No one can judge the strength and duration of love. Yes, this is not an ideal bond, but all you have to do is look at the two of them to see how much they feel for each other. Do not try to make Accalia follow the path you believe is right for her. She must follow her own heart.”
I had never heard Elenia say so much at one time, and with such confidence. It surprised me. As it did her mother and daughter from the expressions on their faces. The middle-aged, tired looking woman had hidden depths I’d never have expected.
Maleka scowled at her daughter for a moment before giving in with a shrug. “You are right of course, daughter. I am being a hypocrite. A woman knows her own heart. She should be able to make her own choices.”
Maleka turned back to Accalia, studiously ignoring me. “I was thinking with my old head. Life gives the young resilience to weather the storms their risky choices may bring. I forget that. Make your mistakes if you must. And I have the herbs you require to offset even greater mistakes. Before you leave in the morning I will give them to you.”
We headed for bed not long after. Accalia made no comment on what had occurred at dinner. Instead, we made passionate love with a desperation that bordered on madness before falling into the sleep of the dead immediately after.
In the morning we took our leave with stiff formality. All the warmth had gone out of the connection we had forged with these people. It was as if we had returned to the day we first found our way into their courtyard.
I didn’t offer coin for our stay, knowing I would insult the old woman. She already hated me, I didn’t need to add to her animosity. To her, I was a slave who had taken advantage of an innocent girl. Whether I loved her or not, it made no difference. I was the lowest of the low. By joining with her, I had brought Accalia down to my level. No man who loved a woman should ever do such a thing.
Maleka’s contacts were excellent, and we were hidden away in one of the few wagons that made up the caravan, almost as soon as we approached it outside the city wall.
Though wagons were rare on these routes, they did make up a small part of most caravans, usually drawn by beefy oxen capable of pulling much more weight than camels could ever carry. Including enough food and water to last these beasts between oases had to be juggled against their usefulness.
The caravaners could and would change their beasts of burden depending on terrain and the goods they carried, and waystations like this one would often buy and sell, or hire out the requisite beasts for the next section of the route.
And so began the next stage of our journey. Spending all day under a hot skin, being bumped and rocked about, wasn’t my idea of pleasure, but I’d do anything to keep Accalia safe. Anything but stay away from her, that was. Though I hated myself for my weakness, I could no more keep the walls up between us as I could stop breathing. She was part of me now. The most precious part of me.
Staying hidden was a necessary precaution. Even if the Parthians had left, there was no telling if they’d return to Palmyra after catching up with and searching the other caravan. If they did, they’d be looking for any caravan that departed with a couple who matched our description. Though I looked nothing like I did when I stole her from them, it was better to be safe than sorry.
We were permitted to get down from the wagon only at night. Under the cover of darkness, we were given food and water and allowed to sleep on mats under the wagon with the men until just before dawn. Then we were loaded up once more, with enough food and water to last us, and spent another long, uncomfortable day in each other’s arms.
Oddly, though, for all the heat, discomfort and worries, I was content. Accalia was close, and we were free to spend hours talking and getting to know each other. For the first time, I knew the bounty Typhon had experienced when he had been laid low with his dagger wound. Or the wonder Asterius had known with her on the ship to and from Sardinia. Even Talos had been able to deepen his connection with our girl while they were buried beneath the burnt debris of Rome.
I realised I enjoyed getting to know Accalia this way almost as much as I had enjoyed getting to know her body’s responses to mine. And I told her things I’d never told anyone before. Especially about the bastard. I knew it hurt her to hear it, but once I started talking, I couldn’t seem to stop. And she never tried to make me.
“Your mother never knew?” she asked me one day, her voice so soft it would have passed unheard amidst the groans and creaks of the wagon had I not been so attuned to her.
“No.”
“But were there not physical signs of what he had done? Injuries?” she pressed, her concern both a balm and a hot poker placed to my skin.
“He had a small cock. Maybe that was why he was such a prick. And he used grease to ease his way. It hurt a lot, but nothing else.
“A few days after it happened she announced she was pregnant and the bastard was sent on his way. Gods, I was so happy. So relieved. I think the terror that it would happen again was worse than the actual rape.
“I had bad nightmares for months and even years after. I still sometimes wake up smelling his foul odour and his hands on my body. And I can’t scream out or cry. Because if I do he’ll kill my
mother and sister. I don’t think my pack-mates ever knew about the nightmares because I was always so still and silent while it was happening. I had to be.”
“You had one the first night we were in Palmyra, didn’t you?” she asked.
Had I? I hadn’t thought I slept at all that night, but maybe I had. My mind had been a jumble of fears for Accalia and memories from the past. If I’d had the dream I would have kept still and silent, in case she was killed. In my rare nightmares in the last few years she’d replaced my mother and sister in them. Keeping her safe was all that mattered in those dreams. But I would never tell her that. She carried enough guilt as it was.
“Maybe. I don’t remember. What I do know is that I haven’t had one since I’ve been sleeping with you in my arms. Maybe you keep the monsters away.”
She grunted at the absurdity of that, though I was being serious.
After I’d spewed it all out, every awful, humiliating detail, I felt better for it. It was like I had given up a burden I hadn’t realised I’d been carrying all these long years. Just having Accalia hear it, without judgement, allowed me to let it go.
And so the days passed, and though I felt bruised from head to toe, and my muscles screamed at being confined for long hours, I was happy.
Our first sight of Dura was a surprising one. And it was our first view of the world in daylight hours since leaving Palmyra. I’d been told the high cliff above the Euphrates was home to the magnificent fortification. But this one seemed more like a malevolent monster perched on the cliff-top glowering down at the river and all that dared cross it.
Beneath the monstrous edifice, the caravans camped on one side of the river or the other. This was where we were leaving our caravan and joining another. Hopefully, we’d be able to ride the next stage of our journey in the open, on horseback or camel, rather than smothered in the back of a wagon.
Dura was an oasis of green after the desolation of the desert. The river, a glorious sight, was wide and slow moving. An island in the middle made the channels on either side easier to cross. We joined many other travellers as they washed off the dust and sand in the river, alongside the thirstily drinking animals.
The noise of thousands of beasts and men was deafening, but I had become used to it by now. I didn’t even mind the fact that most of the human voices around us were speaking languages I didn’t know. Greek was predominant, though, and whenever I heard it, I took the opportunity to ask for directions to a caravan heading upriver.
Tired and filthy, after hours of searching amongst the organised chaos, we finally found our way to the caravan we needed. I showed Maleka’s note to the man in charge, trusting the old woman was not informing on us in it, and was told a low sum for our journey to Antiochia. Even at that low price, the trip took almost all my available coin. That concerned me until I remembered I could acquire more money from the temple when we reached Antiochia.
Where were our pack-mates? Had they reached Antiochia and joined a caravan south? Talos was experienced enough to know that they were safer travelling with a caravan than alone. Yet would worry for Accalia make them impatient? If they heard about a group of Parthians riding out with a guide, might they think to do the same thing?
I didn’t know. And it worried me almost as much as the whereabouts of the Parthians. I knew the bastards wouldn’t give up. If they went home without Accalia they would be dead. Accalia had told me the fate of the envoy sent for her the first time. This prince didn’t take failure well.
We were given a horse to share and told we would join one of the families for meals. It was up to us where we placed our sleeping mats at night. But we were warned to remain within the patrolled area. Night time raids were common, and picking off lone travellers as they slept was a common ploy.
Of course, the man who told me this didn’t know who or what I was, and I wasn’t going to enlighten him. Staying hidden, in identity if no longer physically, was still a wise precaution.
Chapter Eleven
Early March 65 CE Zeugma COMMAGENE
ACCALIA
We arrived at Zeugma, in our slow cumbrous fashion, early in the afternoon of our eighth day on the road from Dura. Though the going had been much easier than the week or more we had spent in the wagon, and a hundred times easier than the weeks I was in the hands of the Parthians, I was still exhausted. I was weary to my toes from travelling.
There had been no opportunity for physical intimacies as we crossed the desert, but we had made up for that each night since, though at first I had to seduce Orion into making love to me. Maleka’s words had affected him, and he had spent too long thinking on them. Probably because they reminded him of all his previous arguments over the years. Our talk of fate and following our own path seemed to have faded away beneath the reality of Maleka’s disapproval.
Not for himself. I knew her disapproval of him mattered not at all. But her disapproval of me did. And though I tried not to show it hurt me, it had. And he knew it.
But Orion was no longer able to tell me no. So he had given in to my need in whatever privacy we could scavenge, as we tried to fit in every moment of pleasure we could steal.
I would never get tired of the vulnerability that would show itself so plainly on his face as passion claimed him. The softness in his eyes, the tenderness of his touch. These were new additions to the Orion I had known since I was twelve years old. When I saw them, when I felt them deep in my heart, I rejoiced. And I did not care what the future would bring. Our fate was ours to make of it what we would.
But the hours that would have been better off given over to sleep, I now realised, were taking their toll. Or maybe I had not recovered as well as I had hoped in Palmyra. My feet, as we walked the cobbled streets of the city, were as heavy as weights, proclaiming to the world and Orion my exhausted state. Yet I would not have given up one night of pleasure with my lover for a little less weariness now.
Zeugma was a sprawling twin city occupying both sides of the Euphrates and linked by a floating bridge. Almost immediately, I was conscious of the heavy legionary presence in the city. There seemed to be indolent soldiers on every street corner. These were not the smartly uniformed and disciplined legionaries I was used to seeing. These men were slovenly in dress and manner, making me ashamed for my empire’s sake. No wonder they had lost against the Parthians. They were a disgrace to Rome. But the way they bullied the locals, I was not about to show my opinion of them. Our position here was too tenuous.
While the caravan set up camp for the night, we had chosen to wander the marketplace in search of fresh food. We had been eating the same meals every day since leaving Palmyra and the diet of cooked goat meat, cheese, the sticky white paste and flatbread was beginning to pall. Though I knew Orion had very little coin left, he had been determined to lift my spirits with fresh fruit or even a bean stew. Anything to break the monotony of our fare.
I was tempted to make use of any baths I came across, also, to wash off a few inches of dirt. Being clean had seemed more a duty than a pleasure when I was young. But now it was a luxury I promised myself I would never take for granted again.
The first sign I had of danger came when Orion grabbed up my arm, gripping my wrist more tightly than was necessary. Instead of complaining, I stiffened and glanced around without turning my head.
“Keep walking. When we reach the next alley, run down it as fast as you can. Can you do that?” he said softly, drawing me along a little faster.
It was not enough to be noticeable to anyone but me, but it was faster than my short legs would normally choose to go. Especially in my exhausted state.
But I did it. And as I felt fear flooding my muscles with strength in readiness for flight, I was now more than capable of keeping up.
“Of course. Is it the Parthians?” I said, beginning to pant a little from the increased pace and from fear.
“I think so. I imagine there aren’t too many groups of moustached men dressed in Scythian garb wandering around a Roman bor
der-city. There are five of them. That was how many there were when I first saw you with them. That’s right, isn’t it?”
I nodded. I wanted to see for myself, and yet I knew that if I saw them they would see my face. If they weren’t sure it was me in this moment, they would, as soon as I looked their way. Maybe Orion’s fair colouring was the only thing making them question my identity. That and the intimate way we wandered the marketplace together. We did not behave like mistress and slave.
At the next alley, half blocked-off by a stallholder who was trying to squeeze onto the main thoroughfare that was already overcrowded, we took off at a run. My hand was held tight in Orion’s. When I almost tripped and fell, that hand kept me upright. His arm then came around me so he could half carry me, to hasten me along. My heart was beating so hard it almost drowned out the noise of the marketplace behind us. All the while the crazy questions circled in my head. How had they found us? Had Maleka betrayed us? Was it really them? How could we escape again?
As we progressed down the alley we soon realised our mistake. It was a dead end. On all sides were sun-bleached, mud-brick walls several stories high. The sun was barely permitted to lighten the shadows of the enclosed space. My heart felt as if a hand was clamped around it, tightening its death grip with every second that passed. Dizziness threatened to overtake me. My mouth, always dry these days, was suddenly empty of moisture.
Gods, this was bad!
Hurriedly, Orion tried the few doors that led off the alley. None of them were unlocked. Defeated, he turned to meet my gaze. I could see acceptance in his bright blue eyes, as well as the determination to see this through to the end. I felt sick.
