Highland Warriors of the Glade_William

by Charity McColl

  Auxilium. A mulier amens: Help, a crazy woman

  "I thought I could trust you to take care of my affairs?" magistrate Cassius Tilenius looked up from his seat in his elusive garden and narrowed his eyes. His harsh voice echoed through the room.

  Volusenius stood before him and smirked. "You can, Master Tilenius; always."

  Tilenius raised his eyebrows. "It doesn't appear to be the case, Volusenius. Two of my slaves are gone…"

  Volusenius cleared his throat. "If I may say so, Master Tilenius, I would suggest you punish Pollius severely. I had the two slaves cornered, and was counting on Pollius to chase them in my direction, but he just let them escape as sand in between his fingers."

  The magistrate studied the face of Volusenius. "Is that so?"

  Volusenius nodded. "But," he continued, "There is good news too. The gods were favorable Master."

  "How is that?"

  Volusenius chuckled and clapped his hands and Pollius appeared. He bowed before Volusenius and Tilenius and waited for a command. "Bring her in," Volusenius said with a slight smile. Pollius nodded and turned.

  Moments later he returned as he guided a stunningly beautiful, graceful woman. She was dressed in a long, flowing white tunic that reached all the way to her feet and was adorned with intricate green lacing at the top. Her shoulders were bare except for a palla, a brown, see-through shawl that was draped over her left shoulder and was attached with a sparkling, silver colored brooch. As she lowered her head, her brown curls cascaded down. Tilenus stared at her and his mouth fell open as he beheld the graceful woman before him. "W-who is she?"

  Volusenius smiled. As soon as he had seen the woman in the Lupanare Curtius he knew he could make a good profit from her beauty. She just needed to have a good scrubbing, get her hair done in a tantalizing way and be given the right clothes and the rest would take care of itself. "I will give her to you for a very small price, considering Pollius lost two of your slaves."

  Tilenius raised his eyebrows and eyed the woman before him. At last he asked: "What's your name, slave?"

  The woman lifted up her eyes and looked at him. Her emerald, green eyes had an empty, sad stare, but she did not answer.

  "Answer me, woman," Tilenius barked as he jumped up.

  "She does not yet speak our tongue, Master," Volusenius said. "But she is as smart as the goddess Diana. She will learn our tongue in no time."

  Pollius cleared his throat and Tilenius raised his eyebrows. "Yes, Pollius?"

  The slave pressed his lips together and then said: "Her name is Caitlin."

  "Caitlin? And how do you know that?"

  The slave squirmed under the angry looks of his master. "S-she told me, Master."

  Tilenius' head shot back in surprise. "She told you? Do you speak her tongue?"

  Pollius shook his head.

  Volusenius decided it was necessary to steer the conversation in a different direction and said in sly tones, "She can be all yours, Master Tilenius."

  For a long time Tilenius eyed the young woman before him. He seemed deep in thought. He was a married man, but his marriage to Flavia, the daughter of a well-known Patrician, had been prearranged for political reasons, and was not based on love. It had never been, and love would never become a part of it either. Thus, Tilenius was known as a man who had no difficulties in making a few sidesteps whenever he felt like it.

  Finally he nodded. "What will she cost me, considering you lost two of my slaves?"

  Volusenius scratched the back of his neck. "I told you…It was Pollius who was responsible, Master." He narrowed his eyes and cast an angry glance at the slave standing next to Caitlin. "But, considering your loss, we can make a deal. You already paid me ten pieces of silver to get your slaves back. This woman is worth… thirty. So, if you pay me twenty more pieces of silver, she'll be yours."

  Tilenius looked up. "Thirty pieces of silver for a slave that doesn't even speak Latin? What's more, my two slaves are still on the run, and you call that a deal? Is this how you deal with your own incompetence?"

  Volusenius shrugged. "She's very beautiful, Master…"

  Tilenius fell back on his seat and eyed Caitlin again as if she were a horse on the market. "She is, Volusenius. She really is. Still, it is a lot of money." He thought for a moment. Then he narrowed his eyes and said. "Listen; here is what I will do. I will pay you ten pieces of silver, and I will forget you couldn't hunt down my two runaway slaves…"

  "Ten only?" Volusenius acted insulted and scowled. "That's not much at all, Master. Doesn't her beauty far surpass the strength of two rebellious, worthless slaves?

  But Tilenius shook his head. "I'll buy her, but only on those conditions. By the way, what tongue does she speak?"

  Volusenius shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Just some barbarian tongue, I suppose. But, you don't need her to speak, Master. Considering her beauty, she will be able to serve you in many other ways."

  Pollius cleared his throat again. Tilenius glanced at him. "Something else, Pollius?"

  The slave looked up. "She speaks a tongue from the North. Cantilia knows her tongue."

  "Cantilia?" Tilenius blurted out. "My housekeeper speaks her tongue?"

  Pollius nodded. "She's from somewhere up north, Master… and she has been able to communicate with her."

  Tilenius thought for a moment and then nodded. "Then, teaching her will be easy. Do we have a deal, Volusenius?"

  "It's a deal," the fugitivarius answered. The thought of ten more pieces of silver brought a smile to his face and he secretly thanked Jupiter for his good fortune.

  3

  Cantilia

  Cantilia was quite a few years older than Caitlin. Her chestnut brown hair was carried neatly in a fashionable bun and was held together with a special, ivory hairpin that her mistress, Flavia, had given her as a reward for her many years of faithful service. She never complained and submitted gracefully to the wishes of her master and mistress. Nothing escaped her intelligent blue eyes, and if anything was out of the ordinary she would take immediate action and not rest until the issue was solved. It had earned her the elevated position of main housekeeper.

  And now she had to teach Caitlin.

  Flavia did not even know that Tilenius had bought this new slave, and it worried Cantilia. She knew all too well why Tilenius had yielded to Volusenius' proposal. This woman was very beautiful. For a moment, Cantilia glanced at her own plain, long-sleeved, gray stola, that reached all the way to the ground. A pang of jealousy, ever so small, shot through her body. But Cantilia had no place for such thoughts and pushed the emotion aside almost as soon as it entered. She knew all too well that she was not considered very beautiful, and that love was an emotion that would never cultivate the dry and cracked soil of the garden of her heart. Sure, Tilenius had forced himself upon her one night when Flavia was away. He had been drunk and it had nothing to do with love. It had left her confused, humiliated and feeling dirty. And this poor, young and beautiful woman before her was not going to be treated much better.

  Cantilia turned to Caitlin.

  "And you tell me that only a few days ago you were married?" Cantilia raised her eyebrows. This was such a strange story.

  Caitlin was sitting next to her in the garden and nodded. She sat slouched on the stone bench while tears were brimming her eyes. A bust of Ceasar was standing nearby on a white marble pillar. His stony, white eyes seemed to ponder some sort of punitive action against the disheartened girl for telling such outlandish stories.

  "I don't know what happened," Caitlin stammered in between sobs. "The sky grew ominously dark… then the light… and now I am here, sold as a slave."

  Cantilia moved her hand around Caitlin's and squeezed it. "At least we can communicate," she said with a hope-filled voice.

  Caitlin nodded and sniffed. "How come you speak my tongue and the others don't?"

  "We are in Rome, sweet. Here, we mostly speak Latin or Greek."

  "In Rome?"

  "Yes
, of course. Rome. I was brought here while I was young. I was kidnapped and taken away from my home in Caledonia. Ugly, ruthless traders raided our town and killed my family. They took me with them and sold me on a slave market. Mistress Flavia needed another slave and that is how I came to live here." She peered at Caitlin. "Since you speak my language, you must be from Caledonia too."

  Caitlin ran her hand through her hair and swallowed. "I have never heard of Caledonia. Where is it?"

  "I don't know," Cantilia shrugged. "I never had any formal education, but I know it's my home. I am from there. Caledonia is the name the Romans call my land. My father used to say we were Gaels."

  Caitlin's face lit up. "That is a word I know." A slight smile appeared on her face, as if the sun broke through the clouds on a dark day. But it did not last long. "B-but, what do I do now?"

  Cantilia pressed her lips together. "I don't know, Caitlin. I am supposed to teach you the Roman tongue. In the meantime, I would advise you to just flow with the current and…" she lowered her voice to a whisper, "…trust in God."

  "In God, why?" Caitlin blinked her eyes.

  Cantilia glanced around to see if anyone was present. When she felt certain there was nobody else around, she looked a Caitlin and said, "Because He knows."

  "Knows what?"

  Cantilia shrugged her shoulders. "Everything. The real God knows everything. The past, the present and the future; He has a plan."

  "What do you mean, 'the real God?'

  "I believe there's only one true God. The Romans worship many gods, but they are false gods. There's only one true God. He created this world and is watching over all of us, especially if we believe in Him."

  "You mean the Christ?"

  Cantilia looked up. "You know Him?"

  For a moment Caitlin forgot her predicament and stared at the older woman before her. "Well… eh… I don't know Him, but yes, I have heard about Him. Many people in my village believe in Him too. I suppose I do too, but He has never done anything for me." A grim expression formed on her face. "Look at where I am now… God is—" She raised her voice, but Cantilia interrupted her.

  "—Careful, Caitlin. You should not talk about these things so loudly."

  Caitlin raised her eyebrows. "Why not?"

  "Our emperor is not in favor of belief in the Christ."

  "Who is the Emperor?"

  Now it was Cantilia's turn to raise her eyebrows. "Surely, you must have heard of Emperor Decius. The Roman empire is the greatest on earth."

  Caitlin shook her head. "Never heard of him."

  "You are indeed a strange woman," Cantilia mumbled. "He became Emperor last year, in 249."

  Caitlin became white. Her fingers started to tremble. "What did you say?"

  "He became Emperor last year… in the year 249."

  "B-but… that's not possible. That time is long gone."

  "No, it isn't," Cantilia said a little perturbed. "You and I are both here, alive and well, in the year 250."

  Caitlin's head dropped on her chest and she started to fall over.

  "Caitlin? Are you all right?"

  But Caitlin did not answer. She had fainted.

  "Cantilia? It's me, Pollius," Pollius whispered through the open window as he tried to get the attention of the housekeeper. It was already after dark and slaves were not expected to be out in the garden by themselves at this hour. If Tilenius would find out he would be severely punished. Pollius' mouth felt dry, but he had news and it couldn't wait.

  "Cantilia…" he mumbled again, "I need to talk to you."

  At first he heard nothing, but then there was some scuffling about and Cantilia's head appeared in the window. Her hair was undone as she was getting ready for bed and she glanced at Pollius in surprise.

  "Pollius? What are you doing here?"

  Pollius's eyes had a nervous stare. "There's a man at the plaza… a very strange man. I think he's a barbarian."

  Cantilia narrowed her eyes. "So? Why do you tell me?"

  "Because he speaks the same language as Caitlin."

  Cantilia was not impressed. "I am sure there are many such people around, Pollius. You shouldn't be here at this time of night."

  "You don't understand," Pollius went on. His voice sounded strained. "He knows Caitlin."

  Now Cantilia looked up. "He knows Caitlin? How do you know that?"

  "I was on the plaza on an errand for Master Tilenius. It was still light then and I spotted him there. He's an enormous fellow… More like a bear if you ask me. He's strangely dressed, like a barbarian. His hair is not neatly trimmed like our hair… and he has this gigantic moustache…" Pollius stretched out his hands to show Cantilia the size. "… And a beard too. Wouldn't like to meet him alone in an alley, if you ask me."

  Cantilia tapped with her fingers on the stones of her window. "I don't care what he looks like. How do you know he knows Caitlin?"

  Pollius licked his lips. "I saw him walk up to several people. He tried to talk to them, but most people walked off. They were afraid of him. Can't blame them. But, then…" Pollius pressed his lips together, "…he approached me too, and he asked me about Caitlin."

  "He did? You don't even speak that language."

  "I don't," Pollius shrugged, "But, there is no mistake. This giant looked at me with these intense eyes of his and at first he said stuff I couldn't understand. But then he said something that made me shiver. I heard him ask clearly: 'Caitlin?' Caitlin MacThom?'” Pollius lowered his voice again and glanced around. "That's her name, isn't it… Caitlin MacThom?

  Cantilia nodded. "It is, Pollius." She thought for a moment. "Where is this man now?"

  "On the Plaza," Pollius answered as he tipped his head back. "I told him to wait there. I don't know if he understood what I was saying, but I told him to wait."

  "Then we must go there immediately, Pollius. Let me get ready."

  "Go there…? But it's night."

  Cantilia shook her head. "Don't worry, Pollius. As the main housekeeper of Mistress Flavia I have a lot more liberties. I will take the blame in case something goes wrong."

  Pollius sighed. He thought he had done more than enough. This was getting too risky for his liking, but he knew it was no use arguing with Cantilia.

  4

  Cantilia Met William

  Cantilia and Pollius walked as fast as they could. They both knew it wasn't safe for a slave to be out after dark. Armed muggers and drunken toffs* would roam the streets, and the two slaves knew all too well that there would be no help if anything would go wrong. While Rome appeared to be a prosperous, bubbling city during the day, when the sun illuminated its streets, at night it was altogether a different story. The slums were dark, grimy and smelly, and even though Cantilia and Pollius were slaves, their living conditions were actually a whole lot better than those of the many poor that lived in over-crowded high rise garrets. Crimes committed in the dark were rarely punished. Master Tilenius' house however, was situated not too far away from Piazza Pax Hortus, the Plaza were Pollius had spotted the strange barbarian. They just had to cross a myriad of small and rather dark alleys, but soon they would reach the open space, where the marketeers would try to sell their products in the daytime.

  "I am sure he's gone," Pollius muttered. "I should not have come with you. It's not safe out here."

  "Don't waste your breath, Pollius," Cantilia answered. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained. God will protect us."

  Cantilia was taking the lead and Pollius followed at her heels. Their feet were making a soft clapping sound on the cobblestones.

  "One last alley," Cantilia whispered as she pointed ahead. "There's the plaza."

  It was a strange, deserted sight as they entered the Piazza Pax Hortus. There were no street lights. Some night crawlers had built a small fire and its glow cast long and strange shadows over the Plaza. Two men sat around it in silence.

  "T-that's him," Pollius pointed to one of them. "Y-you don't want to go there, do you?"

  "Yes, I do,"
Cantilia said with a boldness she did not feel. "We need to find out what is happening. If you are right, this man may solve the mystery."

  "And…i-if he doesn't?"

  "We trust in God, Pollius. I thought you believe in Christ too?"

  But Pollius did not answer and while Cantilia walked up to the fire he slouched back in the darkness. The two men looked up. One of them was a lanky fellow. A beggar. One of his legs was deformed and he stared at her with tired eyes. She had nothing to fear from this man. But the other one… was a bear indeed. A giant, just as Pollius had said. His long hair was tied back in a clip and his moustache indeed was enormous, like the handle of one of the plows of Master Tilenius. It was clear he was a warrior. An enormous sword was attached to his leather belt and Cantilia wondered how come the Roman guards had not disarmed the man yet. That would happen soon.

  As she came closer to the fire she could see his eyes. She expected to see hard, cold eyes that would tell a story of death and hatred and she braced herself. Just then the flames in the fire lit up and their eyes locked.

  Cantilia swallowed hard. These eyes were as soft as the feather quilt on her bed. They held no malice and no fear. Who was this man? Then she spoke in Latin, "Caitlin? A-are you looking for Caitlin?"

  The man shuddered and stared at her for an instant. Then he jumped up and ran up to her. "Lìon làn rionnach 's ròn làn leanna, Caitlin?"

  Cantilia understood. Pollius had been right, this man indeed spoke the same language as Caitlin and herself.

  "Don't be afraid," Cantilia answered in her own tongue. "What do you want from Caitlin?"

  The man put both of his hands on Cantilia's shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. Cantilia saw his eyes were brimming with tears. Then he said, "Please… help me. I am lost and Caitlin is my wife…Do you know where she is?"

  Cantilia blinked her eyes several times and swallowed again. At last she nodded. "She's at the house of my Master."