The Sign of the Eagle

by Jess Steven Hughes

  “Mistress, may I speak to you, alone?” he asked.

  Chapter 4

  Romance in the Air

  Macha turned to Edain. "Leave us. Go to my cubicle and prepare my bed."

  The young woman bowed, glanced to Nicanor, and departed.

  “What did you learn, Nicanor?” Macha asked, sensing her servant’s reluctance as he kept his eyes on the moonlight before him. “Speak up, you have nothing to fear from me.”

  His voice croaked. “I am afraid my news is disappointing, Mistress.”

  “That's for me to decide," she answered softly. "Go on.”

  Nicanor raised his eyes meeting hers. “I went to the courtyard and stayed in the shadows along the portico’s edge. As you suspected, I found Tribune Falco and Mistress Pollia huddled together. They kept their voices down, and I only caught pieces of their conversation.”

  As she started for the house, Macha motioned Nicanor to walk by her side along the gravel pathway leading to the front door. “Did they see you?”

  “No, I’m certain they didn’t—they seemed too involved to notice anything around them.”

  “What did you hear?” Macha leaned toward Nicanor as he lowered his voice.

  “Tribune Falco said something about missing her and not wanting her to return to Rome.”

  “What else?”

  “I think he said he loved her, because they hugged and kissed after that.”

  Macha stared down at the short Greek. Silently, she asked Mother Goddess Anu for guidance. This sounded no more than a romantic tryst. "Is that all?"

  “That’s all I saw,” Nicanor answered.

  “Did either say anything else?” Macha hid her disappointment as she continued her walk to the house. What had she expected Nicanor to discover?

  “Falco said he was taking a huge risk being with her,” Nicanor continued, “Mistress Pollia reassured him that they would not be discovered and kissed him again.”

  “What else?”

  Nicanor looked away. “Mistress Pollia made a vulgar remark about you I would rather not mention. Forgive me.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised by anything Pollia said.” Macha touched his narrow shoulder. She was right. Nicanor's tale was of no value.

  “Is this information you can use?” Nicanor asked. He turned back to Macha.

  "No. I believe Falco is being his womanizing self. This is something I would expect of him."

  Macha dismissed Nicanor. As he disappeared down the shadowy pathway to the slave quarters, Macha wondered if he had heard more than what he was telling her. Could he be holding back information? If so, to what end? No, that wasn't like her music teacher. Nicanor would have told her everything. She frowned. Or would he?

  As she was about to enter the house, the scent of horse sweat filled her nostrils. She spotted the shadow of an intruder lurking behind a tall potted plant near the front door. For a split second a tremor ran through her body and she wished she hadn’t dismissed her litter bearers earlier. Knowing that would take too long, she checked the dagger in her stola’s hidden pouch and summoned her courage.

  “Whoever you are, come out this instant!”

  Stepping out the darkness was Jason, the slender bow-legged Greek slave from Thessaly, a groom who lived in the stables.

  “What are doing here at this late hour?” Macha questioned in a sharp voice, her fingers tightened on the dagger hilt.

  For a few seconds Jason bowed his head before he spoke. “I won’t lie to you Mistress; I was waiting to see Edain.”

  “You what?”

  “I wanted to see her.”

  “How dare you sneak about my house without my permission?”

  Jason swallowed and his dark eyes darted from side to side. “Oh please, Mistress, don’t punish me, I did not mean any harm. I am a man who is in love with your handmaiden. I know now I have done a stupid thing; that’s all.”

  In love with Edain? Does she know about this? Macha wandered. Nicanor and Edain are lovers. Wasn’t that common knowledge within the household? Slaves always gossiped among themselves. He must know, but that wouldn’t stop some men from making advances. She had just scorned the advances of Falco, now she had to protect Edain.

  “Very well,” Macha said. “You have never been a trouble maker, and you are a good groom. My trainer, Juba, thinks highly of you. However, you are to stay away from Edain, do you understand?”

  Jason gasped. “But…” He paused as if he had changed his mind. “Yes, Mistress.”

  “If I ever see you around her, you shall be punished or worse. Now, leave me!”

  The slave bowed and fled in the direction of stables beyond the villa.

  Did Jason overhear the conversation between Nicanor and me? I doubt it, Macha thought. And what if the groom had? He would not have heard much. He had been standing by the house and she had dismissed Nicanor before they were within the groom’s hearing. She did not think Jason had followed them earlier because she was certain he would have been spotted by someone in her entourage. Perhaps she was allowing her imagination to get the best of her. Jason was interested in Edain and nothing more.

  Macha crossed the dimly lighted atrium and pulled her mantle tightly about her shoulders. For a split second, she searched the hallway shadows beyond the atrium leading to her bed cubicle. Had someone been employed as a spy within her own household? The spy would report not only Titus’s every move, but Macha’s as well, especially, to those betraying the Emperor.

  She had learned from an early age not to trust household slaves. After her father, Caratacus, had been pardoned by the Emperor Claudius, his family had received apartments in the palace and the use of a number of slaves. She was only eight but remembered her father telling her mother he had discovered spies among the slaves. Macha learned most wealthy households contained informants either in the pay of a rival family, a political enemy, or the Emperor. A number of her friends had found them in their homes. They got rid of the men by sending them to the mines—a death sentence—and women to scrubbing the public baths and latrines for life.

  But Macha had no proof there were any in her home. Nevertheless, she would give orders to Metrobius to keep a close eye on the movements of the household slaves. She prayed Metrobius wasn't the spy. Macha needed rest but she feared she would go sleepless after today’s terrible events and revelations.

  * * * * *

  The following morning Macha received a message from Senator Bassus to meet him at the garrison of Legion First Italica outside of Mediolanum. He had made arrangements for her to visit Titus.

  When Macha arrived, she found the Senator standing alone at the edge of the dusty parade field in front of the Principia, the legion headquarters. Bassus had been watching a turma of cavalry going through a series of drills in the morning heat, clouds of dust kicking up beneath their feet. He turned to greet Macha as the squadron of thirty horsemen finished their maneuvers and rode away.

  His entourage of a dozen retainers, scarlet-cloaked Praetorian Guardsmen, which his rank entitled him, sat on horseback at a discreet distance. A groom held onto the reins of an unmounted gray Spanish Barb she recognized as Bassus’s. She knew he was allowed a far larger escort of the Emperor’s household troops, but he had said on several occasions, he found them an encumbrance, annoying, and limiting his mobility.

  Bassus wore the uniform of a military legate. A gilded iron helmet topped by a red combed plume crowned his balding head. A gold cuirass with two purple sashes tied across the front covered his white pleated tunic. Scarlet knee-high sandled boots enclosed his feet. Compared to his clothing, Macha felt her cerulean stola and pale yellow mantle to be as plain and roughly made as a peasant woman’s homespun shift and cowl.

  After exchanging salutations, Macha told Bassus, as if in passing, about how Falco tried to impose himself on her once they had arrived at her home.

  "He has good taste, but he must stay away from you," Bassus said.

  Macha frowned. "That's not all. Nicanor
heard a conversation between Pollia and Falco earlier in the evening." She gave Bassus the details.

  "Sounds like he wants Pollia's money as well as her," Bassus said. "His appetite for women is insatiable."

  "It's disgusting."

  "What does this have to do with your husband?"

  She shrugged. "Not a thing, I suppose. I'm too nosy for my own good."

  "I know you don't like Pollia, but whatever it is between those two, it's none of your concern."

  She turned from Bassus and peered across the dusty parade field toward the stables at the distant whinnying of a horse, and wished she was riding one, far away from here. Instead she said a silent prayer asking for strength and forgiveness.

  “I’m going to pay General Valens a visit and get to the bottom of this outrage. Now it’s time to see your husband.”

  Chapter 5

  Imprisonment

  Macha wrapped the mantle tightly around her head and shoulders and pulled the expensive Indian cotton stola closer to her body as she followed the turnkey down the stockade’s dimly lighted passageway to Titus’ cell. A draft from the outside enveloped her like an icy wind sweeping off the Alps.

  Because of her harrowing experience as a child of seven in Rome's Tullianum Prison, Macha was no stranger to the stockade. She shuddered as the memories flooded her mind. After waging guerrilla warfare against Rome, her father’s treacherous cousin, Cartimandua, Queen of the Brigantes, had betrayed Caratacus to the Romans. He had been captured, along with her mother and herself. The family languished in the filthy dungeon, surviving on watered-down gruel and moldy bread for two weeks before being paraded through the streets of Rome in lice infested rags to appear before the Emperor Claudius. Even now she could feel the awful pests crawling on her body and the pangs of starvation within the walls of her stomach. Thank Mother Goddess her father’s compelling speech convinced the old ruler to grant him pardon. Afterward Macha’s family lived honorably for many years in Antium, south of Rome.

  The memories faded as the stubby one-eyed turnkey stopped before a narrow entrance, and Macha peered over his shoulder as he unlocked and opened the cell’s creaking iron door. A rat scurried into the shadowy corner of the dingy graffiti-ridden wall and disappeared. Although she despised the loathsome creatures, her experience in Tullianum had taught her not to fear them. She remembered screaming, throwing her shoes, and a drinking bowl at a huge mottled rat when it tried to steal her crust of bread one day. The earthen bowl shattered on the rodent’s back, and the animal fled squealing.

  The turnkey nodded. Macha entered, and the door slammed shut behind her. Titus huddled on the low cot with a rough woolen blanket wrapped about his muscled shoulders. A few thin rays of light filtered through the high narrow window and an open grate in the door. Titus looked up as she entered. Because of the cell's poor lighting, a second or two passed before he recognized his wife. Throwing off the blanket, he leaped to his feet.

  Macha and Titus rushed into one another’s embrace, his stubble face grazing her soft rouged cheeks. She ignored the stale smell of his unwashed hair and tunic. They were together—that was all that mattered.

  Seconds later Titus pulled away from Macha’s grip. She looked about and noticed fresh straw covered the stone floor. The smell permeating the cell reminded her of a well-kept stable—more acceptable for a horse than a human. She saw a footstool, a small plain wooden table, and a drinking bowl near one edge.

  As he tilted his head to meet her eyes, he pressed his lips into a thin line and scowled.

  “Macha, why are you here?”

  “I'm your wife remember? I had to see you.”

  “You must not!" he snapped. "Your son's life is in danger and so is yours.”

  Stunned by his remarks, she couldn't understand his hostility. What threat could there be to the lives of her and Young Titus? "But darling, I'm here to help, so is Senator Bassus."

  Titus grabbed her hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Sorry, I'm gruff. It's not your fault. Maybe the Senator can get me out of this pest hole.”

  “I know he will."

  He grimly nodded. "When he does, I'll find the real traitors." For a moment he let go of her hands. "Why were you allowed in here? I was told I could not have visitors."

  "Senator Bassus ordered General Valens to let me see you. Mother Goddess, this is no place for a Roman officer—you don’t deserve it.”

  “I’m all right. I've been in worse conditions in the field."

  “You’re talking to me, remember?” Macha chided. “And I have eyes.”

  She studied Titus’ haggard features, the angular scar that crossed the bridge of his large straight nose, his crumpled scarlet tunic, and blue knee-length breeches. His thick brown hair, growing low over his forehead, was combed back over his ears. But the glint remained in his deep blue eyes.

  Titus shrugged. "I'm not concerned with how I look─getting out of here is all that matters. Once I'm free, I'll start inquiries right away." One of Titus' duties as an officer was to investigate murders involving soldiers of the legion that occurred in the garrison or in Mediolanum.

  "This is a conspiracy, not murder."

  He shook his head. "The same principles apply, and the Emperor's life is at stake. Suspect everyone, gather evidence, and by process of elimination find the real culprits. Trouble is, a conspiracy may involve many. Solving a murder is easier."

  "At least you'll be free to try. But you must be released first."

  "Aye, that's true, but I'm confident the Senator will get me out of here. When I was first imprisoned, I was angry and wanted to kill everyone, but that isn't the answer. A thorough investigation is the only way."

  "And you shall, darling."

  Without saying another word, Titus led Macha to his cot. They sank onto the straw mattress, leaning back against the cold wall. A shiver shot up Macha’s spine when Titus placed his arm around her shoulder and drew her to him. She shook it off and pulled away.

  “Wait,” Macha said. She wanted to be close to him but not in this stockade. She first needed Titus to answer questions about his arrest.

  “I still want to know who made up this ridiculous charge?” she asked. “Where did it come from?”

  “I have no idea,” he answered as he shook his head. “General Valens’ interrogators said I’m accused of plotting against Vespasian’s life. The charge is a lie. He’s the first decent Emperor to rule Rome since Octavius Augustus.”

  “Why would anyone accuse you of treason?” Macha wrapped her slender arms around her body and leaned back against the wall.

  He eased his hold. “Once I’ve explained everything, you must leave. I don't care if the Senator’s here, you are in danger.”

  She relented and slowly he pulled her forward. “No one will harm me, darling.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” Titus removed his hand from around her middle and took her hands in his and kissed them. A slight tremor flowed up her arms, her pulse quickened. “Valen’s men questioned me about your role in the plot, too. I told them over and over you played no part in it.”

  “Why do they suspect me?” Macha asked. She didn’t think she had given anyone a reason to believe she was part of a treasonous plot.

  Exhaling, Titus released Macha’s hands. He bent his head and closed his eyes. A minute passed before he opened them. “Remember the bracelet I bought you three months ago?”

  “The silver one encrusted with lapis lazuli?”

  “The same. After I left the street of the silversmiths, I was approached by a couple of wealthy merchants whom I had conducted business with in the past. They were displeased with the new taxes imposed upon businesses by the Emperor Vespasian.”

  “Everyone knows the civil war wrecked the Empire’s economy, and the treasury is empty. What did they expect?”

  A grimace crossed Titus’ broad face as he shook his head. “That’s the point. They were outraged because the increase in taxes ate up much of the huge profits they and others
made during the great crisis. So, they made me a proposition. The bastards wanted me to conspire with them and others in overthrowing the Emperor.”

  Macha gasped. “Titus, why didn’t you tell me?”

  He placed a hand on her delicate shoulder and leaned closer. He twisted his mouth. “I couldn’t tell anyone!”

  “Why did they want you?”

  He snorted. “Since my parents were Gallic, the damned fools believed I would be sympathetic to their proposition and to the lost Gallic cause of two years ago. They intended to stir up the Gauls again."

  "You mean that nest of outlaws you smashed?"

  "That was a coincidence. No, much bigger, the whole province and more. They said other Roman officers were involved including a general, but refused to say whom.”

  “That could be half the commanders in the army.”

  Titus bent his head and whispered, “All of them, Macha. There’s not one who wouldn’t try for the Imperial purple if they had the backing of the army.”

  Appalled by the startling revelation, Macha trembled. Both she and Titus knew that north of the Po River, Italy and Mediolanum had been Gallic territory for centuries before Roman occupation. Despite being under Roman control for more than two hundred years, they were well aware that old festering animosities still raged against Rome.

  “But that’s madness. The Empire would plunge into another civil war, and this time might not recover.” Macha balled her fists, fingernails gouging her palms.

  “I agree,” Titus said, “but there’s more.” For a second he eyed the cell door. Titus went on to describe how he had been inwardly outraged when the traders made the proposal, but in order to obtain incriminating evidence, Macha's husband had to pretend to fall in with their plans until he discovered the conspirators’ names. One of the merchants told him a secret list had been written and a copy hidden. He didn’t know where.

  “I wasn’t going to get involved without confiding in someone of higher authority,” Titus continued. “Unfortunately, I told Julius Aquela, the Camp Commander and second-in-command.”