by Nhys Glover
I looked at my pack-mates, wondering what they saw when they looked at this supposedly grand city. Most had wide eyes and open mouths. Were we such country fools that such a place could leave us agape in amazement? Or were they feeling as lost and adrift in the sea of humanity as I was in that moment?
For the first time, I began to doubt myself. It was hard enough letting Accalia down, something that was out of my control because of my position in life; but that I might also end up letting myself down, by not even being up to the life fate had given me, terrified me more than I thought possible. I had considered myself a confident, powerful warrior, and now I realised I was just a boy with big dreams. One of many, many people in this hub of the civilized world. How many of these poor, pathetic souls had once had dreams like mine?
How could I do what was expected of me? I would be alone, with no coin and no permission to be away from my master. There were a hundred fates the gods could throw at me. I suddenly realised that even when I was dropped in the middle of the forest at thirteen I hadn’t felt so helpless. Back then I had a plan to meet up with my brothers to save Typhon from a madman. That I ended up being the one who couldn’t join them—and had been forced to make my way home alone—hadn’t mattered. There had been hope, at least, in the darkest moments of that first night. And by the time I realised I’d be going it alone, I was confident I could do it.
Maybe that was the key. Focus on the plan. If it didn’t eventuate, then that was fine, because by then I’d know I was capable of the task.
At the river docks we prepared to go our separate ways.
“Chin up, brother. I’ll see you soon,” Typhon said, as he pounded me on the back while hugging me tight. A big, fake smile was pasted on his lips, but I could see the sadness in his eyes.
“Not if I see you first!” I threw back and received a punch to the shoulder for my poor joke. It hurt more than it should.
“We can do this! This is what we’ve trained our whole lives for!” Orion told us, once the hugs were over.
We nodded our agreement, and I felt my spirits lift a little. If Orion was giving us a pep talk then I wasn’t the only one feeling overwhelmed.
I noted the two lads with us were looking less than impressed by this rousing speech. I didn’t care. It worked for me. And if they thought themselves better than us, then all they had to do was prove it. They had been trying to do just that for five long years now and failed at every opportunity.
“All of you in the riverboat. Except you, Asterius. You go with Otis,” came the order.
In our junior years we had studied geography with special emphasis on the empire. It had been to give us a good understanding of the many possible locations we could find ourselves during our final trial, and the ways we might make our way home. So we all knew the river boat would take travellers to the sea port of Ostia. From there the whole empire was available to them.
That was true for all but the ports along the Mare Adriaticus. Those were more easily reached from the eastern side of Latium. And the Master would be in Moesia Superior and Pannonia in the coming weeks. They also lay on the other side of the Adriaticus.
The realisation that I was going to be the one close enough to reach the Master dawned on all of us at the same moment. I saw disappointment and envy warring with the desire to urge me on reflected in all three pairs of eyes.
“It looks like you get to play the hero this time, brother. Make sure you do it well! Accalia’s counting on you,” Typhon said, his dark, slanted eyes fiercer than I had ever seen them.
“I won’t let her down. I’ll succeed or die trying.”
“Dying isn’t an option. The she-wolf doesn’t need a dead hero, she needs a living one,” Orion pointed out gruffly.
The five other initiates were hustled onto the riverboat just as the ropes were being untied. For a few moments, I watched as the riverboat got underway. My brothers lined the side, waving goodbye. They looked so young, and yet so huge, compared to those around them. Our breeding had never seemed more obvious. The Roman plebeians looked like half-grown children beside them.
The next months of our lives would change everything for us. And this might be the last time I saw these men who had become closer than brothers to me over the last ten years. I would miss them fiercely. I wouldn’t even know how to sleep without them. I’d always let their soft snores lull me into oblivion. Tears clogged my throat, and I cleared them with a few hard swallows.
With a final wave of my hand, I turned away to greet the gruff Otis with a nod. Wordlessly, I let him guide me toward the eastern gate of the city.
When my companion hired us a fast moving cisium on the outskirts of the city, I felt the blood in my veins begin to thrum with excitement. I was leaving my childhood friends behind and beginning the next stage in my life. All my insecurities evaporated. I could do this. As Orion said, this was what we’d been working towards our whole lives. And I was no ordinary initiate. I was a member of the Wolf Pack, which the Master considered his greatest breeding success. If anyone could do this, I could.
For nearly three days we travelled eastward on the Via Valeria through the Anio Valley, over the mountain pass and into yet another valley that was occupied by a huge lake Otis called Fucino. At the end of the lake we started upwards yet again, this time along a new stretch of road called the Via Claudia Valeria, because Emperor Claudius had ordered it built.
As we scaled the heights and made our harrowing descent and the sea port of Aternum, I had to wonder at the skill of the Roman road builders. How long that journey would have taken before the building of the road, I had no idea, but far longer than the three days we did it in, that was certain.
My companion was a rough and surly sort in his mid to late thirties. He’d been one of the Master’s gladiators and had done well in the arena up until ten years ago. Now he was hired out as a bodyguard to Roman nobles who travelled the empire. He knew the route we were taking well, he informed me, and if the information he shared on the places we passed through was any indication, then he wasn’t lying. So, I drank up everything he told me because I knew I would need it on the return journey.
It became apparent fairly quickly that my easy-going ways annoyed my companion, so I stopped trying to chat to him and focused on what I needed most, the information on my journey he was willing to share with me.
Otis even told me where I was going: a tiny encampment called Brigetio, along the limes in Pannonia. It was previously the domain of the Osi tribe of Sarmatia. There had been much unrest in the area since it was conquered, although there wasn’t even a military camp there yet.
What interested me most was the fact that this Brigetio couldn’t be that far from Aquincum, though Otis was not willing to share just how far from the military camp my destination was.
From Aternum we took a ship across the Mare Adricaticum for Salona in Dalmatia. By this time, I was well used to the rigors of travel and enjoying the experience in a way that had Otis grimacing with disgust.
“This is a trial, boy, not a holiday,” he barked at me when he caught me standing against the railings of the ship enjoying the wind in my hair and the sun on my face.
I thought his disgust with me was most likely caused by the fact I suffered none of the sea sickness that was upsetting him.
So I answered good-naturedly, not letting him get to me. “My trial begins when you leave me, old man. Until then I can enjoy the novelty of the adventure. I doubt I’ll ever have a chance like this again.”
Otis shrugged. “Maybe so. But that’s what I thought when I was in your place. Now I travel more than I’m home, and it irks me. All I want is my hearth and my woman.”
I thought about that a great deal for the rest of the sea voyage. Would I be happy with a home and a woman? If that woman was Accalia, possibly. But the chances of that were little to none. And any other woman? No, I would grow bored in no time. Having begun to see the world for the first time, I realised just how much I had missed being
closed up in our barracks. The world was so much larger than I ever imagined it to be, even when studying geography. A point on a map couldn’t hope to convey the sights, sounds and smells of a place.
We arrived in Salona mid-afternoon of our second day at sea. I barely had a moment to take in the walled city—a smaller version of Rome but with a decidedly Greek feel to it—before we were on the road again, this time on horseback.
The road from the city into the Dinaric Alps was remarkably good, but not as good as the roads in Latium. Otis told me that this was because Salona minted silver into roman denarii that was mined from the mountains, so it needed good roads to convey the precious loads.
Though I had never handled large amounts of money, I was aware that twenty-five silver denarii were worth a gold aureus. A skilled worker could expect to receive a silver denarii for every day he worked. As a gladiator I could be awarded an aureus by the emperor if I won my fight and would be entitled to twenty percent of the winnings paid to my master and the lanista of the ludus to which I was assigned. As most gladiators only fought three or four times a year, it was a rare slave who became rich from the profession. But there was more to it than money. We’d known that from the very start of our training.
The mountains here were so much grander than the ones we’d crossed in Latium. They soared overhead like the upturned, open jaws of a monster, their canines tipped with snow, even in summer. Every night we camped by the roadside and took turns standing guard in case we were attacked. This was Roman territory, but there were thieves aplenty in this unprotected area. The neighbouring Lazyges were supposedly a Roman client state, but smaller, hungrier sub-tribes were known to raid into Roman-held territory when they could get away with it.
After three days, we reached a wide river called the Saws and found some of the Roman military fleet tied up at docks here. Everywhere we looked there were troops, most in full uniform and armour. This was the frontier, I had to remember. Threats were everywhere. I would have to be careful to avoid the military, as they would be far more suspicious of a lone traveller than others would be.
After a ferry ride to the other side of the river, we continued on to Murs and then further north to Aquincum, at the very edge of Pannonia.
By the time we reached that small fortified camp nearly two weeks had passed. I knew my master wouldn’t be expected here for another few days and planned to stay for a week before moving on west to where the Germanic tribes were causing problems. So I had more than enough time to make my way back here from Brigetio in time to catch him.
But what might have become of Accalia after all this time? She was never far from my thoughts, even while I was enjoying the journey. I had no idea when the envoy from this Parthian Prince had been due, and what would happen after he left. Would he take Accalia with him? That seemed too fast. Surely, an offer would be made, and a counter-offer would follow. But Camellia was keen to get rid of Accalia, so she might jump at the first offer. My girl might already be on her way to Parthia.
My stomach churned every time I considered that possibility.
It couldn’t be too late. I wouldn’t let it be too late. Had the Master been in Aquincum already I would have found a way to ditch Otis and make my way to him. But that would have been too simple. Life was never that easy. And yet, finding myself so well placed to reach him, did seem fortunate.
Unless he had already received word of his daughter’s danger and had returned home. I hoped that might be the case. Gods, I hoped he was already on his way home. If not, who knew what fate would befall Accalia.
Chapter Seven
ACCALIA
Though I spent a sleepless night trying to come up with a plan that would not result in causing my pack or Ariaratus any pain, I could think of none. The witch had so perfectly played me, and my foolishness had provided her with everything she needed to do it.
I stayed abed long past my normal hour, knowing there was nowhere for me to go and nothing to do. It was five years ago yet again. Back then I’d thought my life was over because my pack had discovered who I was. I should have let it be over! I should never have let Ariaratus convince me otherwise.
They would have left by now, and my master would be wondering why I had not come to help him. Would my pack have been waiting to say goodbye, or would they have already been anxious to be on their way? I could well imagine what it must have felt like for them to leave their barracks after a lifetime spent on our estate. The farthest they had ever gone was the mountains to the east of us, and that had only been for a little less than a week.
Not even Minerva invaded my seclusion. That surprised me. I had expected her to be there, head bobbing like a chicken as she clucked about the dire fate that had befallen me. Had something happened to her? Would Camellia do something to my handmaiden, so she could not aid me in any plot I might hatch?
My blood turned cold at the thought. Not Minerva too? That sweet woman had been the closest thing to a mother I had known in the last seven years. And though she had never stopped warning me of the dangerous path I followed, she had supported me every step of the way, regardless.
At some point a meal was delivered to my door by one of Camellia’s handmaidens.
“Where is Minerva? I need her to help me dress,” I asked plaintively. A little light filtered in from the peristylium down the corridor, but it was not enough to properly give me any idea of the time. And my rooms had no windows. It could be dawn or dusk, for all I could tell.
The skinny, horse-faced girl smirked at me. “She’s been sent to join the field-hands. You can do with one of us from now on. Until you leave.”
My mouth dropped open, and my legs threatened to give way under me. My Minerva down in the quarters? Of all the dwellings on the estate, the field hands had the worst. Even the barracks were a little better, though not by much. How would Minerva, who loved her creature comforts, survive down there?
Yet it seemed there was nothing I could do. If I went to Camellia—if I could go to her, given that I had been told to remain in my apartments until the envoy arrived— I had nothing to bargain with for her return. Camellia’s power was absolute.
I took the tray of food from the girl and nodded. “I will do well enough alone, thank you.”
The girl watched me enter my rooms again before closing the door firmly behind me. Though none of the rooms in the villa had locks, it would be no hardship to put a guard in front of my door. But surely no guard loyal to my father would hold me prisoner?
Yet Camellia was the Master’s wife. She was the new Mistress. Her position was superior to mine, now. All the slaves had to do her bidding, no matter where their personal loyalties might lie.
The sandglass that always sat on the shelf over the hearth was now missing, I noticed, which further added to my inability to measure time. Was this yet another way Camellia planned to torture me? If I had no way to tell time, the hours would drag even more slowly by. I knew that from the week I had lain abed after returning from saving Typhon. But at least then Minerva had stopped in regularly to check on me, and I could tell by the meals she tried to press on me what time of day it was.
I went back to bed. There was nothing else for me to do. The food on the plate was good, but I had no appetite for it. All I could think about was my pack heading south. Though they could not have saved me from my fate, at least having them nearby would have made me feel a little safer.
The trays came and went without me paying them much notice. Then, when my weakness seemed to have become so severe I was no longer sure I could rise to relieve myself, or had anything left in me to relieve, the door opened and closed quietly, and stealthy footfalls crossed the room in my direction.
This was not one of the handmaidens, nor likely any of the kitchen staff. They would not try to creep about. Not unless they were not supposed to be here.
I levered myself up on my elbows and tried to make out who was in the room beyond the half-open curtain. I heard the sharp click as a flint was
struck and then a glow from a lighted lamp illuminated the outer room of my apartment. A man’s shadow was revealed, and I was instantly afraid. Had my new mater sent someone to kill me? Had the envoy changed his mind and now she just wanted rid of me?
Holding my breath, I edged back against the wall. My heart was thrumming so loudly I could barely hear the soft slapping sound of his footsteps on the tiles as he approached my inner sleeping quarters.
When he was close enough, I almost fainted with relief. I recognised him immediately. Marcus! It was Marcus!
“What are you doing here?” I gasped out in my shock.
“Shhh! Be quiet. Do you want to wake the harpy and her two offspring?”
I lowered my voice obediently. “Marcus, you cannot be here. It is unseemly!”
“Says the girl who spends her time with gladiators. Or soon-to-be gladiators. I heard the Wolf Pack had left for their trial.”
He sat down on the bottom of my bed as if he had every right to be there. I wanted to smile. It was so very Marcus. And yet I could not bring myself to smile. Too much was wrong for me ever to smile again.
“You look terrible, Ennia. Have they been starving you too?”
I shook my head. “No, I get trays. But I am not hungry.”
“I hope you have enough energy to escape with me then. Because I doubt I can carry you. I am not one of your pack, after all.”
“Escape?” My heart lifted for a moment before I remembered what would happen if I did such a thing. All my secrets would be laid bare for Pater to see, and so many people would suffer for them. “I cannot escape. I must stay and see this Parthian envoy.”
“Your pater will not punish the pack or anyone else who has aided you in the last five years. He might punish you, when he finds out what you have been up to, but I am sure his punishment would be far less onerous than being sold into seclusion as one of the wives of a Parthian.”
