by Rane, April
“No! This cannot wait one moment. Mistress Sovonya is very ill.” Aradia ducked under his arm, opened the outer door, quickly knocked and then rushed in.
“By Zeus, what are you doing here?” he demanded, half rising from the table. “Do you not know that only men are welcome here, you little barbarian?”
“There is something that needs to be addressed,” Aradia told him, “Sovonya is quite ill, and she needs the best of care. A specialist from the city must be called for.”
“Have you been appointed her post, or do you wish to appoint yourself my conscience?” asked the master, sneering at her. “Well, speak up, girl! What position do you wish?”
Aradia could not believe what she was hearing.
“Then you will do nothing!” she exclaimed.
“I have already done all that is needed,” he told her, “and now I am going to have my meal. You will, I presume, find your way out?” The cool tone of his voice took on the quality of splintering ice. “And never attend to me like this again.”
Aradia stomped out as he fastidiously arranged his tray paying her no mind. Head bent in sorrow, she returned to sit with Sovonya, about whom all the women of the household had gathered. Aradia was told that she had opened her eyes twice but that she was very weak and unable to speak. “Is she…will she die, Miss?” Stalena asked, tears streaming down her plump cheeks.
Aradia’s stony gaze was fixed on her patroness. “I assured you that all is in hand. I will send for a physician.
The next morning she hunted down one of the stable boys and promised him coin to go into the town proper to fetch a man of medical knowledge. Giving him a small gold piece to make the ride, and many coins to give the physician, she hoped he was not a thief and would soon return.
Days went by with no change in Sovonya’s health. Neither was there word from Tomis. Aradia spent all her time attending her friend and hoping that Rumaldea would leave. She had not seen him since the day she had barged in on him, and if she never saw him again, it would be too soon. He was a miserable old man. When he died, no one would mourn him, she thought. Unlike Sovonya, who was loved by many, he would not be missed. The medico never came and Aradia was left to wonder what had happened. When she tried to get another of the stable boys to go to the city, she was told that it was impossible.
One day, during one of Aradia’s lengthy visits, Sovonya slowly opened her eyes and said weakly, “You must get in touch with Tomis, my dear. He is in his homeland. It is a great distance.”
She then, painstakingly, told Aradia how to contact him before wearily closing her eyes. Aradia was excited about contacting Tomis. Sovonya had told her it was a complicated matter and would take a great deal of time for an answer, but it was a start simply to know where he was.
Sitting the next day she composed a letter to him and gave it to the maid along with the last of the coins she had tucked away from her time in Athens. Her instructions were to give the coins to the stable master, who would ride to the small port on the island and then make the appropriate arrangements with one of the ships that came to trade. In her letter she told Tomis of Sovonya’s illness, and also asked to know how he was. She made mention how wonderful it was getting to know him and asked when his next visit might be, mentioning nothing of the child that she now knew was nestled in her womb.
“A moon yet passed and no change for the better,” Stalena said dejectedly, as they sat beside the lady’s bed. “Do you think she will ever get well, Miss?”
“I truly do not know,” Aradia told her, “I had hoped for a physician but we are at the mercy of a tyrant.”
She had attempted to send again for a third time when the other two attempts had brought no aid, but had been told that the master had ordered them not to interfere.
In order to enjoy the last remnants of sun upon her face, Aradia took a few moments in the garden, instinctively cupping her slightly rounded belly with one hand.
“The master wants your attendance,” a slave announced, appearing with a suddenness that took her breath away. “Come with me.”
Once in the men’s quarters, she was hurried into the library, no doubt so that she would not be seen. It had been a long while since she had browsed tablets and parchments. She missed the smell of a library, the feel of writing tools and of the parchment upon which to write.
Caressing one of the scrolls lovingly, she heard the booming voice of Rumaldea. “Whose child is it? I’ll have his name before you leave this room.”
Holding the parchment scroll in front of her, she pulled herself up to her full five feet nine inches, and turned toward him. Glaring in open contempt she spoke with royal demeanor, not masking what she felt for him.
“You act as a deceived father. The role does not suit you. If that is why you called me here you are wasting your time. I am in attendance to your lady wife, sir. You may treat her like a servant, but that advantage does not extend to me. I have tended her duties during her illness and neglected nothing. The house runs smoothly. When she is well, I shall leave. I hear that you are off soon. I shall continue as I have been with your permission.”
“This is the second time you have insulted me! There shall not be a third,” Rumaldea spat in a rage.
Aradia marched regally past him. She was shaking, for indeed he could order her out of the villa and off the grounds. Her mind was racing. She did not want to leave Sovonya. If he ordered her away, she might never see Tomis again. Surely the letter had reached him by now and there would be one on its way back to her. Praying to the gods and goddesses, she realized she had been evoking them often as of late.
Aradia frantically paced the length of her room, reminiscing about the long and interesting talks she’d had with Sovonya before she took ill. How she wished that there was something more definitive that she could do. Aradia had taken it upon herself to not speak about her spell-making abilities to the servants, though she had made herbal remedies for some of them. She loved the servants and did not want to get them into any trouble with their master so she was very careful. It saddened her that she had not come upon an herb that would help Sovonya.
The day before last she had again gone to the woods seeking comfort and looking for an herb to heal her friend. The herbs in this country looked, tasted and smelled somewhat different. Aradia spent an enormous amount of time seeking answers while sitting at the bedside of her hostess, praying for knowledge of the right herb to use. Knowing she had to be careful in the administering of the herbs so as not to draw attention to her craft, she was being overly cautious. Besides, she thought, since she had fallen in love, she was aware that her power had diminished a bit, no doubt because her thoughts were so scattered. She was having a hard time controlling her breathing as a means to obtain vision. Grandmamma taught me well. How is it that when I need it the most I cannot seem to get answers?
That night, before she went to bed, she invoked the gods and goddesses of Greece. “All right,” she spoke out loud, “I have begged my gods and goddesses to answer me and yet I have no answers. So I shall resort to call upon you Artemis, Goddess of the hunt and of the forests and woodlands. I beseech you, come to me with the answer to my prayers. I love Sovonya. Like my sister, the world is better off having her in it. You cannot take her. Show me the herbs!”
She sobbed the last few words and threw herself on her bed in exhaustion from her long day.
That night in her dream the Goddess Artemis was showing her a path out of the courtyard that led at great distance to a grotto-like area. The grotto had not been made by the hands of man, but was wrought from the hands of the Goddess. The word ‘physis’ the Greek word for nature had been repeated in her dream more than once. Then an odd-looking plant that was larger than life appeared in front of her. It was a stock with six leaves and tassel like appendages on each. The top of the plant was rounded with what appeared to be a fluffy substance. The plant grew smaller and floated down the path, nestling itself under the shade of a large jagged rock.
&
nbsp; “Ah, my sweet child,” said her own spirit guide, “you seek to help one you love. Your heart is in the right place but you are very tired. It is important to take care of yourself for the sake of the child. Take your dream to heart. Go and seek the herb. It is called Silphium. It cures many things in this strange country you find yourself in.”
Desimena watched her charge sleep. Then she repeated the words again, inserting them firmly into Aradia’s dream, hoping to reach her with the vital information.
Early the next morning, Aradia hurried out of the courtyard through the villa’s compound and to the hill lined with groves that she had seen in her dreams, excited and certain that she could find the herb of which she had dreamt. Great was her joy when she found that the dream had been correct. Finding it exactly where Artemis had shown her, she hurriedly went back to the villa to prepare it, knowing in her heart that it would heal Sovonya.
Stalena hesitantly entered Sovonya’s room, her cheeks stained and tearing. Wiping her eyes on her apron, her skin grew even paler and her hands shook as she nervously approached Aradia and told her, hesitantly, that she was wanted outside, that the master’s slave was waiting to take her to him.
Aradia had been sitting next to Sovonya, affectionately holding her hand and gently feeding her the third dose of tea she had made from the information in her dream. Aradia felt encouraged and thought the unique brew was helping. Sovonya had smiled at her and it appeared that she was a little stronger, and it had only been two days.
“Thank you, I shall come down in a moment.” Aradia was not looking forward to this. She had heard that the master had canceled his plans to leave for business and that he was in a frightful state of mind.
Aradia was led to the library by the slave; there was no one there when she arrived. She stood at the fireplace to draw a bit of heat. The weather was turning cold as winter fast approached. She had never liked this desperately bleak time of year. Looking out of the window at the desolate coffee colored landscape did nothing to shorten the minutes that she waited. She tried to quell the dark uneasiness with thoughts of warm summer days in the sun.
Three men entered the room. Behind them strode the master. For a moment Aradia felt like a caged animal; a feeling of helplessness swept over her and her knees felt weak. She was not used to feeling this way, and became angry with herself for cowardice. Throwing off her fear, she faced the men, reminding herself of what her grandmother would say to her in such a situation. If you are not moving forward, then you are going backward.
The smallest of the three men said, “You have been accused of crimes against this household. You will be tried on the morrow, as is the custom. You will be escorted to your room and the door will be bolted. Food will be brought to you.”
“That is better than you deserve!” the master shouted, turning red and pounding his fist upon his desk.
Aradia paid him no attention. She looked at the man who had made the statement. “And who might you be?”
“I am the magistrate. I tend to any crimes against the master’s holdings. We will not hear you now, but on the morrow as I explained. You will be taken to your room.”
The two men standing quietly by took one of her arms, and suddenly Aradia remembered the men that had taken her prisoner after killing Phesoj. It felt as though these same brutes were taking her prisoner once again. Fiercely she pushed the men away, as powerful feelings of being thrown into the ship’s hold washed over her. And when they came at her again, she pushed them away with all her strength, and began to run. But both men were quick and strong. Before she had taken a few steps, they twisted her arms behind her back and forcefully removed her from the library.
The pain was so excruciating that she felt as though her shoulder would come out of its socket. Renewing her fight, she protested vehemently, ordering the men not to touch her. As they reached her bedroom door, a strong desire to call on the elementals engulfed her, but her remembered promise to Sovonya kept her from doing so.
The men pushed her roughly through the door and towards the bed. Grabbing a tray of food on the stand beside the bed, she flung it at them. The startled men could not dodge it fast enough. Milk compote, cheese, bread, and a pitcher of water hit the frame of the door, splattering both men. The last thing she saw and heard were their startled faces as the door closed and the horrifying sound of the latch click into place.
Sitting on the bed in confusion, Aradia tried unsuccessfully to calm herself. What a sight that must have been, she thought, them dragging me kicking and screaming through the household. But that was beside the point now. What she needed to do at this moment was to decide how to proceed. What would grandmother do, she wondered? And what of the precious child she and Tomis had created?
Opening the window she gingerly began to climb out, but the chill in the air reminded her of her boots and a blanket. Going over to get them she noticed the bread and cheese on the floor. I must eat, she thought, for the child. She stored the remnants of food in her shawl. Remembering the jewels Sovonya had leant her the night of the gala, she peeked into the ornately carved trunk at the end of her bed. I have used the last of the coins, she reminded herself. I will need something to make a fresh start for the sake of the child. Hesitating, she rummaged through the trunk. She thought, Sovonya will understand.
Again she went to the window, this time over the sill and onto the tiles. It was different with boots on. It was slippery so she moved at a snail’s pace. Approaching the end of the roof, she looked down and saw the rain barrel. “Oh, Minerva, goddess of war,” she spoke out loud, “please come to my aid. And Demeter,” she begged, “Please…protect my child.”
Letting go of the roof edge, she put all her weight on the barrel. It tipped over and she landed hard on her left side and shoulder. Lying there very still, she thought she felt the child kick. Placing her hand over her belly in an attempt to soothe and comfort the child within, she whispered softly, “It will be all right, mea bambino. I will take good care of you.”
Aradia moved quickly but quietly towards the stable. She did not know how to bridle a mount. She was surprised to see the stable boy that she had paid to go to fetch a medico. He had never returned, or so she had been led to believe.
“Would you bridle her for me?” she asked, pointing to one of the horses.
He nodded and moved to do her bidding without a word, his eyes downcast. He led the horse out of the stall, put a blanket and bridle on her, and handed the reins to Aradia. The stable boy helped Aradia onto the horse and she slowly left the stable area. Her heart was racing with anxiety but she knew she had to hide her feelings for fear the stable hand would detect something amiss. Not wanting him to become curious she rode away from the stable area as casually as possible, holding her breath, her thoughts raced.
Picking up speed, the bouncing began to feel uncomfortable. She could stand it, but could the child? Looking over her shoulder, she saw two men on horseback galloping toward her. Spurring the horse to move faster, she hoped to outrun them.
Suddenly, and without warning, one of the men was beside her and was reaching over to grab her reins. Trying to block him from doing so slowed them down enough for the second man to catch up. Realizing it was useless she gave up the struggle. Putting her hand over her belly, she said silently, I will protect you. I do not know how, but I will protect you.
Without speaking the men led her back to the villa. When they reached the steps to the main entrance, one man dismounted while the other held the reins of Aradia’s mount. Once inside her room, one of the men gruffly asked, “What have you in the wrap?”
Nervously, she spoke. “It is just some bread and cheese.”
The other, a thin grim faced man, picked up the bag and roughly opened it, un-wrapping the food the jewels fell on the floor.
Saying not a word to her, the men left, taking both the food and the jewels. The door was closed and locked again. The sound offended her ears. Aradia went to the window and looked out. There she saw a gu
ard sitting on a tree stump.
The same two stern and disapproving men came for her in the morning. Feeling their eyes bore through her, she knew what thoughts were filling their heads. Sitting on the side of the bed in her best garment, she was ready! She knew she looked attractive. Her skin glowed and her breasts were full mounds. Her hair was swept up, with small curls escaping the pins.
Indicating that she would not try to escape, she followed the men out of her room and down the stairway. Keeping her head high with a regal tilt, her eyes sought out the many servants that peaked out from nooks and corners. As they made their way past the library they headed for one of the meeting rooms. Cook, Iola and Stalena, standing by the kitchen door, openly cried and sought her eye, trying to give comfort as she passed.
Six men, all formally dressed in elaborate togas with gold patterned stitching down the front, sat behind a large oblong table. Some of the men were visibly awkward and fidgeted in their chairs, but all showed varying degrees of discomfort. Many men who Aradia guessed were from the master’s holdings sat off to the side, looking as though they were there just to observe. Some sought her eye in compassion, others in curiosity, but most simply looked uncomfortable. She was told to sit at the smaller table in front of the six men.
The master of the house was seated in a huge cushioned chair, alone and off to the left of the larger table. Aradia, the panel of six men, and the entire proceedings were in his view. A small ornately carved desk with writing tools and a gavel sat in front of him. Beside him was another table holding an object that was wrapped in hemp.
Two of the six men at the large table were unfamiliar to her. She nodded to the magistrate from yesterday, and then to the councilman and judge she had met at dinner when Rumaldea had first returned to the villa. Then noticing Timerus, she gave a slight nod. She had expected Captain Grisarius might be one of her judges, perhaps even strangely hoped, as in his case he had much to lose by condemning her, but he was not in evidence.
