by Nhys Glover
“But you are an innocent, are you not? I cannot imagine you doing unseemly things with those four. Now I, on the other hand, would happily do unseemly things with them. But I think I would not get the offer.”
My eyes must have opened wide at that because Marcus laughed softly. “My dear girl, just because I have a man’s body does not mean I have a man’s heart or desires. Now get up and come with me. From the gossip I’ve heard, the envoy will be here in the morning. You cannot be here to meet him. Now move!”
“I cannot risk my pack or Ariaratus by escaping. You do not know what Pater might do. This is all my fault. I have lived my life as I wanted for five years and never considered the risk I put others in. I cannot run away from my mistakes now.”
Marcus grabbed my shoulders and gave them a shake. “Your men are gone for the next few months. By the time they are back your pater will be too busy dealing with his traitorous wife to think overmuch about what his slaves did at your behest. As long as you are virginal, all else can be brushed aside. But there is no coming back from the life your dear mater has in store for you. No coming back!”
His tone had me moving before my mind agreed to his plan. Maybe my crimes would seem insignificant next to Camellia’s. Maybe Pater would prefer me consorting with his slaves than married to his enemy and putting his legacy at risk by going along with this traitorous plan.
“Turn your back,” I told Marcus as I climbed out of bed and made for my chest in the corner.
“There is nothing you have that I have any interest in seeing, my girl. But to save argument.” With an exaggerated huff Marcus turned away.
“Does your pater know what you are doing?” I asked him once I had my gown in place and the pins attached to the shoulders. I had chosen my hardiest gown because I had a feeling I would not be travelling in comfort.
“He is in Rome at the moment, or he would have come himself to confront the harpy, I am sure. I expect him to do so when he returns and hears your story.”
“I have to get word to Pater. It is he that must deal with her, not your father. He does not have the power. This is not Lucullus; this is a wife.”
“Stop talking and let us go. We can make plans later,” Marcus ordered as he doused the lamp again and led the way out of my rooms.
The short hall was silent and dark as we crept towards the atrium at the front of the villa. I had a moment of terror when I saw one of the guards on duty, but if he saw us he made no move in our direction. So we continued our slow escape past the impluvium, the small pool under the open roof that collected rainwater, to the front doors.
As Marcus pulled on the door, I heard a screeching sound from further into the house. It sounded like Camellia when she yelled at one of her handmaidens.
Marcus’ eyes opened wide.
“Camellia!”
The guard ran past us, heading toward the sound. I knew then that he had definitely seen us and was on our side. Yet another who would suffer for my sins.
We were outside in moments, the door closed behind us. A cisium awaited us at the bottom of the stairs, a restless horse in the traces. Would that be enough to get us away safely? If Camellia sent men after us on horseback they would easily overtake us before we reached Marcus’ estate.
I climbed up onto the small conveyance, followed swiftly by Marcus, who took up the reins. He whipped the horse into a full gallop down the narrow road leading to the compound, barracks and other slave quarters on the estate. We were making enough noise to have men coming from everywhere to see what was happening. Would they see someone kidnapping their Little Mistress? Or would they see their Little Mistress escaping her terrible fate?
Sure enough, guards came out as we approached at breakneck speed. But at the sight of us, they stood down. I waved my thanks as we passed. Only then did I realise I was without my wig. I would look like Cassius in a woman’s gown! Gods, what would they think!
“Why did you not remind me to put on my wig?” I demanded in exasperation.
Marcus turned for a moment from the racing horse and winked. “I rather like the look. How have you managed to go this long without anyone noticing your short hair?”
“The wig. But my new mater and sisters realised fast enough. I told them I had a skin condition that required me keeping my hair short. I thought they believed me, but now I realise my hair might have been what had them looking into my activities. I was so stupid! I have managed to get away with so much in the last years that I have become complacent. It only took those harpies, as you call them, to see right through all my deceptions.”
“I have no idea why you have short hair, and I do not want to know just now. Maybe when I am in need of a good laugh you can tell me. And for what it is worth, Pater was never suspicious of your wig or what you got up to over here. He assumed you were just living a secluded life as a dutiful daughter. After seeing you stand up to him as you did over the Lucullus incident, he just accepted things as they were. I, on the other hand, made a point of trying to keep up with the gossip over here. But without success.”
I was pleased to hear that my activities had remained a secret and that gossip had never revealed my identity as Cassius. Which made me believe my slaves were not the ones who had given me away to Camellia. She had likely had her slaves follow me. I was not as discrete as I had thought.
We drove through the night, the full moon providing all the illumination we needed. By the time we pulled up outside the Natalinus’ villa rustica I could barely keep my body upright. I was exhausted and weak with hunger. What had possessed me to let myself get this depleted? Did I hope to kill myself as a means of escaping my fate? Surely, I was not so great a coward.
Yet when I thought of how easily I had given up, I realised that was exactly what I was. When had I become this craven child? I had been fully prepared to take on a mad gladiator when I was twelve years old, but now I folded up like a fan the moment my new mater made a move against me. No, it was not just now. I had been doing it for months, ever since I saw how Pater doted on the harpy. Somehow, that very act had stolen my confidence, stolen my belief in my own self-worth. That Pater chose her over me...
I shook off my self-pity and allowed Marcus to help me down from the cisium. A slave had materialised out of the darkness to take the horse and carriage away, while my saviour helped me into his home.
While I ate hungrily in the triclinium on food that had magically appeared for us, Marcus and I talked strategy.
“We need to get a message to your pater. That is our first action. Pater has your father’s itinerary in his tablinum. I know I glanced at it when I received word of your plight. I think he is in Pannonia right now, is he not?”
I imagined Pater’s itinerary in my mind. “No... No, that will not be for some weeks yet. Now he is in Vimincum in Moesia Superior.”
Marcus scowled in confusion and shook his head. “No, I am sure he’s in Aquincum right now. Or will be on the nones, which is only a day away. Wait, I’ll get it.”
I knew Marcus had to have misread his version. My memory was excellent, especially about something as important as this. I had lived the last five years writing missives to Pater using his itineraries.
When Marcus returned he had a rolled papyrus in his hands. He unrolled it and placed it in front of me. I had to move the cold meat pastry I was eating out of the way before I dripped gravy onto it.
“I was sure I was right. See? Here is where he planned to be at around the nones of June, the end of the first week in June. Aquincum in Pannonia. Then he leaves for Ovilava in Noricum a week later on the ides. He should arrive in Ovilava a week or so after that.”
I studied what was in front of me. The place names were all the same, but the dates were mostly wrong. Except for the first location he was heading: Serdica in Thracia, where the unrest with the Dacians had resulted in many new captives.
Bit by bit, I worked out the dates and realised with dawning horror that I had discovered why Pater had not been getting my
missives, except for the first, which he said had been melted beyond legibility. I had been sending my missives to places he had already left! No wonder his news had seemed odd. I had not even picked up that he was talking about places I thought he was yet to reach. Why had I not realised it?
“What?” Marcus demanded.
“That woman! She is pure evil. Somehow, she managed to alter the itinerary Pater left for me. The dates are different. I have been sending my missives to places he has just left. Always just a little late to catch him.” Then another realization hit. “Oh, Gods, if my pack tried to get to Pater to tell him what is going on here they will miss him. Because I told them the dates and places as I knew them to be.”
“They were going to find your Pater while they were undertaking the initiation? That was risky, was it not?
“Very. That is why I told them not to. But they wanted to do something. And I understood that need. It was how I felt when they went on their first initiation, and the madman, Lucullus, was out there waiting for them. I had to do something or go mad. They were feeling the same way, so I gave in. But they will be wasting their time. Time they need to use to get home!”
I sat back, the rest of my meal forgotten. One of them could be chasing Pater all over the frontier. It was the worst news possible.
No, the worst news would be finding out Pater knew of Camellia’s plans and wanted me married off in a hurry. That one still played in the back of my mind. Although I knew marrying me off to an enemy of Rome was not something Pater would condone, he might well have agreed to her arranging a marriage while he was away. Maybe she had just overstepped a little by choosing a Parthian.
“So, how long would it take for a military dispatch or cursus publicus to get to Aquincum? If he arrives there in the next day or two and stays a week. There may just be time for him to get a missive before he leaves there. But to assure he gets a message we can send one to his next destination, Ovilava. How long would a dispatch take to reach Noricum?” I asked.
From his itinerary I knew Pater would reach Ovilava about eight days after he leaves Aquincum, which meant about three weeks from now. It was a long time to wait for a message to get to him and then a reply to arrive back from him. Anything could have happened to me in that time.
“We cannot be sure about military dispatches. Unless you pull strings, your message has to wait until the next dispatch is sent. That can be days, even as much as a week to those frontier locations. But they are much faster than other means of travel, of course.”
“I can pull strings. Or Pater’s influence can. He has a supply of the emperor’s certificates that allow him to use the imperial postal system.”
Sudden awareness had me swearing loudly, using words I heard the slaves use when I worked on their injuries. “But they are in his office. I cannot get to them now. But there are people I could contact, if Camellia does not get to them first. I think I may be going mad trying to outthink her. Yet she seems to be one step ahead of me all the way. Could she somehow get to Pater’s contacts and stop them from sending anything I asked them to send? I do not know any more. I really do not!”
Marcus took my hands in his and rubbed warmth into them. I had not realised how cold they were. Which was strange, given the time of year.
“We will send missives by military dispatch using Pater’s name. One to each destination. If he gets the first, well and good. If he does not. Then he gets the next. The difference will only be a week or so. What we have to consider is what you will do until then. Let us estimate it will at least be early to mid-July before we hear anything.”
Gods, that seemed like so long away. How did I stay out of the harpy’s way for that long?
“Maybe I could go to Rome and stay with Pater’s relatives there. He has a cousin who has a domus on Palatine Hill. I have never met him but maybe he would take me in.”
Marcus chewed his lip. “What do you know of the man? How easily would he fall prey to Camellia’s charms? I assume she must have many to have won your pater over so completely.”
I shrugged. “I know nothing about him other than he is about Pater’s age, and that Pater stays with him and his family when he is in Rome to see the munii, the games. Oh, and he owns several of Pater’s gladiators.
“I know a little more about the family history, though. His father and Pater’s were brothers and fell out when my grandfather wanted to start a breeding program for gladiators. His brother thought it would never work, as there were always enough captive slaves to do the job. He also worried Emperor Augustus might be threatened by the activity and the whole family could suffer.
“But his brother, my grandfather, believed that Roman citizens wanted to see gladiators who exemplified Roman virtues, not barbarians. My grandfather and father have shown that to be true. On a modest scale, of course. They have had to stay within the political lines set by the different emperors, some of whom have been sure senators were raising private armies to defeat them.
“How long ago did he start breeding and training? Your grandfather.”
I cast my mind back. “I think Pater told me his father had his first gladiators bred and trained for the arena shortly after Augustus became emperor.”
Marcus’ mouth dropped open. “Your family has been doing this for nearly fifty years, then?”
I shrugged. “Not quite, but nearly that long. And the Wolf Pack will be Pater’s crowning glory. That has been Pater’s dream for the last ten years. And they can do it too. They were made for greatness.”
Marcus nodded, his eyes glowing probably as brightly as my own. “I have no doubt. When I knew them they were already impressive. What I admired most about them was their unity. I envied them their close bond of brotherhood. For a while they let me share it.
“I think that was the pivotal point in my childhood. Being accepted, being protected because I was one of them. Being able to be me. I never wanted to be a fighter. I knew I would have to become an officer and serve my time in the army, but I’d hoped they’d give me a post where I could handle documents not men. But while I was in the barracks... well, after I got adopted into the pack, I started to gain confidence and tried to be like them.
“And I got better. Lots better, with their help. And the lessons on strategy. I was better than anyone at those, I discovered. So, by the time Pater decided I had learned my lesson, I probably had learned to be a man. I continued with my swordsmanship and strategy with tutors, and I think I might actually make a decent officer when the time comes. All thanks to the Wolf Pack.”
His face had softened as he spoke, and his eyes glowed with pride. I could see how being adopted by the pack, accepted by the best, could have given him the confidence he needed. I had never thought of it before, but they had done the same thing for me.
I had been a girl who wanted to be a physician. Once they had accepted me, they had accepted what I wanted to become. They knew who I was, what I was, and yet they turned to me when they needed healing. Belonging gave me the confidence to keep doing what I wanted to do.
Now I was alone, my pack was gone, and my confidence had evaporated. Yet Marcus had not lost his confidence when he left the barracks. He had gone on to become the man he wanted to be. A man his father would be proud of, even if he was not able to produce the sons required of him.
I sat up and put my shoulders back. I was already feeling stronger after eating, and now Marcus’ words had reminded me of the confident girl I had been when I was with my pack.
I could be that girl again!
Chapter Eight
ACCALIA
Marcus’ family, I discovered, were all in Rome. Marcus had chosen to remain at their country estate to establish a new manager. Really, he just preferred life in the country, he told me. Urban life was too noisy, smelly and crowded for his liking.
But the problem with being alone at the estate was that, if Camellia sent slaves our way to reclaim me, he had few men he could call on to fight them off. I did not know if the people
I knew so well would do Camellia’s bidding, but I was not prepared to find out.
So, as soon as it was light, Marcus and I took the cisium and headed for Rome. Our first stop would be the Natalinus domus, to gauge his father’s position. The plan was to stow me away in a pension on the outskirts of the city while Marcus went to his father. He would send off the missives I had written from there. And if his father approved what we were doing, I would come into Rome under Natalinus protection. If he did not, I would go to Pater’s cousin and hope to have better luck there.
The main problem was that I had no power. I was considered a child under the control of my paterfamilias. In my father’s absence, Camellia stood in his place. It was assumed a wife would do her husband’s bidding in all matters. Therefore, if she said I was to marry while Pater was gone, no one but Pater could legally stand in her way.
But there was the Law and then there was the law. And a powerful man like Natalinus might choose to do what was politically expedient rather than what was legal. Allowing Camellia to make ties with Parthia in politically volatile times like these would not be in Rome’s best interest. Or that was the argument Marcus planned to use when he went to his father.
These were our thoughts as we made the two-day journey south to Rome. I had disguised myself as a slave boy, yet again, to avoid scandal. And we stayed in a foul mansione on the way, although the place was overrun with bugs and thieves. The usual option chosen by our class was to stay with friends along the way, but secrecy made that option impossible for us.
So, two days after escaping my home, I found myself ensconced in another tiny, filthy room, with enough food to last me a day, while Marcus went to seek his father’s help. At least I felt reasonably secure. The landlord, a jovial man with narrow eyes that saw everything, had proudly explained his security measures, showing us the wooden beam that could be slid into place to keep the door barred when we were trying to sleep.
