The guards on the gate watched him as he climbed the path. He had half expected Lutrin to send some men after him but the men of Broch Tava were too busy to worry about one slave. It was almost fully dark by the time he reached the gate where a group of warriors waited, spears and shields at the ready. “What do you want?” one of them challenged.
“I am looking for Brude, son of Anndra.”
“And who are you?”
“His slave,” Fothair said, managing not to choke on the words. The men laughed but they opened the gate. One of them took the staffs away from him while two others grabbed his arms and marched him inside. The great gates were swung shut behind him. At least he had managed to get inside, he thought ruefully. Whether he would get out again was another matter. He was taken, unprotesting, round the side wall, following a path between some roundhouses, past the edge of the great hall towards the rear where they approached another hut. One of the men knocked on the door frame. A woman’s voice called out for him to enter. The man pushed aside the leather curtain, which served as a door, and went inside. He came back out again after only a few moments. He nodded to Fothair. “You can go in.” To the other warriors he said, “Give him back his staffs.”
Gathering the wooden poles with as much dignity as he could muster, Fothair ducked through the thick curtain. He found himself in a small house with a blazing fire in the central hearth. An iron cauldron sat over the fire with a glorious smell of food coming from its steaming contents. He suddenly realised that he was hungry. More important, though, were the two occupants of the hut who sat cross-legged by the fire. One was an elderly woman with long, silver-grey hair. The other one was Brude.
Brude waved him in with a long wooden spoon he was using to sup some broth. “Glad you could join us,” he said with a smile. “How is Colm?”
“I’ve rarely seen a man so angry,” Fothair replied. “But I see I shouldn’t have worried about you. Quite comfortable are you? Not too worried about me?”
“This is your slave?” the old woman asked. “You need to teach him some manners.”
“He is my friend,” Brude said. “Which is why he has come here, despite the danger.”
“What danger is there here?” Veleda asked, her eyes sparkling mischievously.
“Well, there is said to be a witch woman in here somewhere,” said Brude.
Veleda smiled a thin smile. “Well, what is in a name? Witch or druid? Slave or friend?”
“He’s my friend,” Brude repeated firmly.
“Not that you’d know it from him leaving me out there with thirty angry warriors,” grumbled Fothair. He dumped down the staffs and packs then sat beside Brude. “Cold and hungry, with no idea what had happened to you.”
“There was not a lot I could do about it,” Brude told him. “But I reckoned that someone as resourceful as you would either get in here or would lie low until morning.”
“I should have run away,” said Fothair, accepting a bowl of steaming broth from the old woman with a nod of thanks.
“I wouldn’t blame you,” Brude said.
The old woman waved them to silence. “Enough!” She looked at them both sternly. “I am Veleda, last of the druids in these parts. I have heard of you, Brude, son of Anndra. Stories reach me from all over the lands of the Pritani. I know you returned last year from the lands of the Romans. Many things I know, but much of it I learned only from tales told to me long ago by those who taught me. They in turn learned it from those before them. Nechtan looks to me for advice and guidance but to give this, I must know as much as I can.” She fixed him with a piercing gaze. “So now you must tell me about the Romans and their army.”
A.D. 207
Lucius was to join the army in Germania as a military tribune on the staff of Quintus Aemilius Terus, the imperial legate who commanded three legions stationed on the banks of the Rhenus, the great river which divided Gaul from Germania, flowing from the hills and forests of southern Germania to the northern sea. Despite the best efforts of the empire to expand beyond it, the Rhenus marked a natural boundary between the civilised land of Rome and the barbarians of the forests. Aquila was delighted with the posting, for this was the first step for his son in his path to glory.
To cap off Aquila’s delight, he had also arranged a marriage for Vipsania Secunda. She was now fifteen years old and would be married later that year to the son of another knight who lived in Ostia and who Aquila knew from his shipping business. Vipsania herself, though, had caught a winter chill, which had turned to fever, so she was confined to bed by the doctors. Brude was not impressed with the prescribed treatment, which seemed to comprise applying warm poultices and praying to Aesculapius and various other gods. He mixed a potion from the collection of herbs he had been accumulating and took the girl a warm drink, which she accepted gratefully. “Will you be leaving us soon?” she asked him as she cupped the warm beaker in her hands.
“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. If Lucius was leaving then there was no reason for Brude to stay, except that he liked the family and had found a true friend in Cleon.
Aquila broached the subject too, summoning Brude to the room with the Neptune mosaic, where they had first met. Aquila, ever formal and business-like, got straight to the point. “My wife and my daughter, as well as Cleon, have asked that I find some other position for you within the family,” he told Brude. Brude was surprised that Agrippina had said anything for even though he had been living in the house for two years, their paths rarely crossed. She had hardly ever spoken to him, except to ask questions about Lucius’ training or to discuss some domestic issues. Even when Brude acted as an escort to Agrippina and Vipsania when they visited the forum or went to the baths at the appointed time for women and children to bathe, Agrippina did not often speak to him directly. She was always very formal, always very correct and rather aloof in her behaviour.
Aquila continued, “For my own part I had hoped that you would accompany Lucius in some capacity. Tribunes are allowed some attendants and even though they are usually slaves, that is not always the case. Freedmen are permitted to actas servants and I know Lucius values you as a companion.” He paused to let that sink in, his piercing blue eyes studying Brude carefully. “I will let you think on it,” he said after a few moments. “I am going to Ostia tomorrow and will be away for two or three days. Let me know your preference when I return. Lucius does not leave until the end of the week so there is plenty of time for you to make up your mind.”
“Thank you, sir. I will give the matter careful consideration.” Which he would have to. Aquila had let him know what his preference was. Brude knew that he could have ordered him to accompany Lucius, for the head of the family had the final say in all things. Aquila, though, always listened to advice and if Cleon, Agrippina and Vipsania were all asking for Brude to stay, then he knew that Aquila would not object, even if it was not what he wanted himself. Still, to go against the head of the family’s choice would be a bold move, even if his own inclination was to stay.
He discussed it with Cleon who urged him to stay, though Brude had known that the old Greek would say that. Cleon was always telling him that he was like the son he had never had. Cleon was a friend, a teacher and a confidant, but he was hardly impartial.
The following day Aquila left for Ostia, taking Cleon and Lucius with him. Brude, left with no duties, visited Vipsania in her room. The elderly slave woman who acted as her nurse sat disapprovingly in the corner, watching his every move while Brude checked the girl’s temperature. She was still hot, so he mixed her another drink, telling the slave to cool her down by washing her in tepid water. “The doctors say we need to pray to Aesculapius,” the woman told him, with a reproachful frown.
“You could try that as well,” Brude agreed. “But wash her first. She needs to keep cool.”
He left the girl, telling her to rest and sleep as much as she could. He thought the fever was abating but he did not really know what was wrong with her so it was hard
to tell. The doctors didn’t know either, which was more worrying.
Downstairs, in the shady peristyle garden with its columns and covered walkways, he found Agrippina waiting for him. Aquila’s wife was dressed in a long gown of white linen. Her hair was neatly curled and piled on her head in the fashionable style and she was wearing a golden necklace with matching long, gold earrings studded with emeralds. She was dressed as if she was attending a dinner party. One of the household slaves, a young girl called Marcella, was standing patiently beside her, eyes downcast. A large wicker basket lay at her feet.
Agrippina smiled when she saw Brude coming into the garden. “There you are, Brutus. I need to go to the forum. Will you accompany me, please?”
“Of course, my lady,” he answered. He followed, a discreet pace behind her as she led the way out into the street, the slave girl, Marcella, trailing behind him, carrying the basket as befitted her station.
The day was warm and the streets of the city were crowded and dusty. Agrippina, as usual, barely spoke to Brude although she occasionally turned her head to make sure he was still with her. She wandered through the forum, paying little attention to anyone else and seemingly in no hurry. Brude and Marcella followed her as she eventually made her way to the vegetable market, where she spent a long time picking a selection of fruit and vegetables which she piled into Marcella’s basket. Once the basket was full, she sent the girl home. Then she said to Brude, “I wish to go to the temple of Aesculapius to offer prayers for Vipsania’s recovery.”
Brude nodded, acknowledging the unspoken command that he would accompany her.
The temple of Aesculapius lay outside the walls of the city in one of the wealthy suburbs to the north, at the foot of the hill the Romans called the Hortulorum, the Hill of Gardens, because each villa in the district had extensive and well-maintained grounds. The temple of the god of healing nestled there, not far from the Campus Martius where Augustus had his mausoleum, but it was a long walk from the forum and the day was growing very hot. Brude waited while Agrippina paid some silver denarii to the priest to offer a sacrifice to the god, seeking a swift recovery for Vipsania. Brude, despite having listened to Cleon’s tales of Epicurus’ teachings regarding the gods’ utter lack of interest in human affairs, decided it would do no harm to seek some extra help for the young girl so he offered up a silent prayer of his own.
It seemed an even longer and hotter walk back through the city. They sought the shade of the narrow streets as much as they could but Agrippina appeared to be content to wander. To Brude’s surprise, she took a circuitous route back, heading round the northern side of the city. He began to grow concerned. They were in the Subura, near the Viminal hill, one of the poorer parts of the city. The Subura was home to a large Jewish population and had a bad reputation among most Romans, who were generally apprehensive about the Jews. Brude, having often listened to Josephus talking about the traditions and beliefs of his people, was not bothered by the Jewish customs that shocked the Romans so much. He thought them strange but, apart from circumcision, which he had never understood, he at least had some understanding of why the Jews followed the traditions that they did. He remembered Josephus asking why the Pritani painted themselves with the blue war paint, laughing when Brude could not explain it except by referring to tradition. Brude thrust aside y coeminiscences because at that moment the Jews were the least of his problems. The Subura was also home to many of Rome’s poor and more violent citizens. A beautiful, high-class lady, dressed in fine clothes and displaying valuable jewellery, was a worryingly easy target. He was about to say something when Agrippina said to him, “Come, Brutus, it is hot. There is a bathhouse nearby where we can freshen up and get something to eat.” Not waiting for any response, simply assuming he would do as she commanded, she turned down a side street which led to a small square where a noisy crowd of children were laughing and playing beside a small fountain. In one corner of the square was a small bathhouse, alive and boisterous with people playing ball in its outer court.
Agrippina strode to the door, ignoring the looks from the locals as they saw her fine clothes and jewellery, but Brude hesitated. He saw the statue outside the bathhouse, a naked goddess standing in a provocative pose. He could read well enough now to understand the writing above the doorway, which proclaimed the name, The Baths of Venus.
He hurried to catch up with Agrippina, gently touching her arm. “My lady, you should not go in here. It is a rough place.”
She turned to look at him, an amused smile playing round her lips. “Are you afraid, Brutus?” she teased. All of a sudden she was no longer the aloof Roman mistress of the household and Brude’s concern for her safety was replaced by an unexpected desire.
He looked down, not meeting her gaze. “I am not afraid for myself, my lady. But for you.”
“Nonsense!” She dismissed the idea of danger. “I have nothing to fear when you are with me.”
“But I will have to wait outside,” he told her. “I cannot escort you inside.”
“Of course you can, Brutus. That is why we are here. The Baths of Venus allow mixed bathing at all times. Now come in with me.” She reached for his hand. He saw the look on her face, recognised the expression in her eyes and he knew he should not go in with her. Her lips were slightly parted and flushed, her tongue rubbing the edges of her white teeth. He was certain that he would be making a terrible mistake if he went inside with her. She leaned close to him, whispering, “People are watching us, Brutus. I insist you come with me now.”
Resisting the temptation she was offering, he hissed, “My lady, I cannot. Your husband…”
“Is far away,” she said. “But if you do not come in with me I will make sure that he hears how you abandoned me in such a dangerous part of the city, first forcing your unwanted attentions on me then running a far when I spurned your advances. Do I make myself clear?” Her voice was low and soft, the words quiet but with iron behind them. He was in no doubt that she meant what she said.
He did not know what to say. She laughed at him. “Am I so ugly that you do not desire me?” she asked him. He shook his head, aware of her beauty, unable to resist her any longer. She pulled his arm and led him inside.
The bathhouse was crowded, men and women sharing the pools, all entirely naked. Agrippina did not remove her jewellery, saying it would be safer than leaving it to be stolen by the slaves who were supposed to watch the patrons’ belongings.
Brude was astonished at how beautiful she was. He had lived in Aquila’s house for two years but, although he knew she was attractive, he had seen her as a passive figure who stayed in the background, always quiet and undemanding. He had certainly never guessed the perfection of the figure she kept demurely hidden beneath her gowns. She took him to the cold pool, cooling off after the heat of the sun. She laughed, swimming to him. She had let down her long hair and it lay, wet from the water, plastered about her shoulders. She giggled girlishly as she put her arms around him so that he could feel every contour of her body. “You have no idea how long I have wanted to do this,” she told him. “Come! Let us use one of the small rooms. I can tell you are ready for me.”
All around the pool were small, private rooms, where couples could retire in privacy, each room with a wooden door. She took his hand. Quite unashamed at being naked and in full view of the other bathers, she led him into a room that was free. She closed the door and fastened the bolt. The room contained nothing except a small couch. Agrippina threw her arms around him, kissing him passionately and now he could not help himself. She was no longer Aquila’s wife, she was a gorgeous woman with the body of a goddess, a woman who wanted him. He kissed her back, marvelling that she could have been so close to him for so long without him guessing at the passion in her. The change in her was incredible, intoxicating, and irresistible. He picked her up and carried her to the couch. She lay back, wrapped her legs around him and urged him on to ecstasy.
Vipsania knew almost straight away. She was feeling m
uch better and sitting up in bed, propped up by a horde of coloured cushions. She sent the nurse away while Brude sat beside her bed, checking her forehead, which was much cooler. He looked into her eyes and saw they were clear, not heavy, the way they had been. He smiled at her and told her he thought she was well on the way to recovery.
She thanked him but did not seem happy. Studying his face with her large, blue eyes she frowned and said, “You have been with my stepmother.”
Brude tried to cover his consternation. “Yes, we went to the forum and then to the temple of Aesculapius to offer prayers for your recovery. I see they worked.”
“You don’t believe in the gods any more than Cleon does,” she told him with certainty. “And you know that is not what I meant. You have been with my stepmother…” she searched for a word, “intimately.”
Brude could think of nothing to say in answer. He lowered his eyes so that he did not have to look at her but she reached out her hand, lifting his chin. Instead of accusation, he saw sympathy in her expression. “You are a very clever young woman,” he managed to whisper. “I don’t know what to say. I had no choice.”
“Of course you did,” she said. Despite her youth, she seemed to be the one in charge. “There is always a choice. You could have told her you have the pox. That would have stopped her.”
Brude gave her a weak smile. “I never thought of that.”
“Of course not. You’re a man.” Vipsania spoke with all the self-assured authority of a fifteen-year-old girl. “I don’t think any of you actually use your brains when a pretty woman throws herself at you. And she is very beautiful, isn’t she?”
“Yes she is.”
“Not on the inside, though. She acts all quiet and shy when my father is around; the perfect wife. Well, you have seen that side of her, of course. She plays it very well. But my father’s the same as the rest of you. He won’t see what is right in front of his face. All she has to do is take her clothes off and he believes everything she tells him.”
In the Shadow of the Wall Page 26
