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We were met by an older man than Maximus, dressed in the armor of Master of Foot, who greeted us with formality, then smiled at his superior. "Welcome back, General! How was Rome?" Maximus dismounted, handing his reins to me. I did not move from my seat."Busy, as always, Valerius," Maximus grinned back. "When are you going to retire?" It was a joke between the two of them obviously; they pounded each other's backs.
"When they drag my spear-riddled carcass back to Rome!" Valerius had a hearty laugh, that I found myself liking. He glanced at me, and looked askance at Maximus, who casually followed his gaze, and motioned for me to come down from my own horse.
He introduced me to Valerius, without mentioning my purpose there. Valerius seemed greatly intrigued, but seemed to trust his general. It was not his concern, if the commander chose to keep a slave, let alone a woman.
"Where's Justinius?" Maximus was looking over his magister peditum's head, toward the thousands of tents and soldiers that provided the backdrop for this little meeting.
"Centurion Justinius is busy on patrol, I believe. He should be in quarters soon. Shall I send word you are looking for him?"
"Yes, do that. Tell him to bring my dog, too. In the meantime, I need to get these horses penned, and see to what has been neglected in my absence. And I have other business, regarding my servant." Maximus shook hands warmly with Valerius, and with the two soldiers that the other man sent with us and myself, set about getting the Spanish horses settled in. It took more than an hour, and by that time, my stomach was reminding me that I had not eaten since the night before. The smell of roasting meat reached us on the cold night breeze, and Maximus glanced longingly in that direction. I asked if I should get him a plate. If I had to serve him, and earn my freedom, I had to keep him alive to do it.
He shook his head, however. "No. Not yet. I need to make you known to the secretaries and to the officers and the like, first. Come with me." He led me to a tent, where the records were kept. A man in pristine armor sat serenely entering things in ledgers. Racks and wooden chests full of scrolls lined every wall and filled every available space, save his bunk, in the tent. The lamp on his table flickered brightly, as his quill scratched marks on the parchment before him.
"Dedalus." Maximus called. He did not look up.
"Yes, General?"
"I need a favor of you."
"If it's your journal you need written, there are scribes aplenty for that." Maximus grinned.
"Actually, I have someone who needs to be entered onto the payroll." The secretary kept his place with his finger, and waited. It apparently did not occur to him, that Maximus meant me. I wondered if he had ever inked a woman's name on the list of those Rome salaried. Maximus beckoned me forward. Dedalus gaped in open astonishment at what the general was suggesting, and fairly stuttered, "But sir, she's a...a..."
"Celt?" There was a flicker of amusement in my master's eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, half the army is made up of them."
"No, Sir, she's a..."
"Slave? I know. She belongs to me." Maximus was having a bit of fun at the record-keeper's expense, and winked at me. He knew full well what Dedalus was trying to say. I was female. By rights, since I was a slave, I should have been ushered out to the place where the women were kept at the far end of camp, to service the soldiers' needs. The expense of feeding and clothing me, and whatever other costs I incurred would be the sole responsibility of my keeper. But what Maximus was intending, was that I was to be employed by Rome for whatever use he had planned to put me to. In the meantime, I was going to serve him, and care for whatever duties he chose to fit me with. "Just add her name, Dedalus. If the Senate ever asks, and it is likely they won't, I will explain it to them. She is to receive the stipend of the auxilliary forces." He turned to me. "Is that agreeable with you?" He had to ask? I, who had not had a coin of my own since being stolen from home, was to have an income that would allow me to buy my way out from bondage under Maximus. I retained my composure, and nodded, but inside, I was pleased, and grateful to my owner.
Dedalus shook himself of his surprise, deciding that the commander of the army knew what he was doing, and asked for my name. He glanced at Maximus. "Her position?"
"Interpreter." He did not look my way. That placated Dedalus, somewhat, and he asked me to sign or mark next to my name. I wrote it carefully in my people's language, then added just under it in Greek, for good measure. Maximus watched carefully, pleased that I was literate. Dedalus was simply amazed, as I knew he would be.
Maximus' quarters were lavish, befitting his rank. The tent was large and uncluttered, though it was filled with furnishings that bespoke a taste in quality and expense. Most notable to me, were the writing desk in the space where he met with his officers, and the cabinet, where candles and figures awaited veneration. The table was walnut, and darkly finished. It was carved in scroll-work and relief of walnut leaves about its legs and sides. Writing implements and a single oil lamp were set neatly on the surface. It was bare of anything else. The cabinet was plain of decoration, though it was made of oak, and quite beautiful. The doors that closed off the upper shelves were a hatchwork, to show the cups and utensils that Maximus drank and ate with. Below that, he would set the tiny idols of his family, to pray for and to them at night, as I was to learn was his ritual before sleep.
I retrieved our belongings from where they had been left by the soldiers that had carried them here, and Maximus began to put his things away. I stood by, not sure what to do with mine, as his was the only bed in the huge living space. He noticed my discomfort and uncertainty, and mentioned that he would have a bed set up for me, before the evening was over. I was not to be quartered with the prostitutes. Eventually, he continued, I would have my own small tent to inhabit.
A light supper of bread and roasted goat was sent in to us, and we did not speak through dinner. We were cleaning our plates, when the guard at the door announced Centurion Justinius had arrived at Maximus' request. The youth saluted stiffly, addressing Maximus as 'Sir', but I could see the family resemblance, right away. Maximus saluted him, in turn, and then hugged the younger man, nearly crushing him, though Justinius was nearly as tall and wide. With him came Maximus’ dog, a beautiful animal that bore her wolf ancestry. She had missed her master, and hardly left his side the entire night. "How was the patrol, Centurion?" Maximus addressed him, as I poured his guest a cup of good, stout wine.
"Boring, Uncle. This is Ostia. It's all the army. We are hardly going to have trouble." He smiled thanks at me, and introduced himself. "My uncle's manners are horrible. I am Justinius, and that bitch,” he indicated the dog, “Is Lupa.” I smirked at the look Maximus shot his nephew.
"Boadicea." If he knew what I was to his uncle, he made no show of it, and was pleasant to me. While they conversed about what was happening around the camp, and on to more personal matters, I studied them. Both were dark-haired and posessed a swarthy complexion. Justinius' eyes were brown, while Maximus' were blue and green, a throwback to the Celts that had made Hispania theirs. The Iberians were almost completely Roman, by now, more so than even the Celts in Gaul and Galatia. Both men had the same prominent, straight nose, over delicate lips. They could have been father and son. While I was sure it was more due to life experience than age difference, Justinius had a casual air about him, and Maximus was reserved, even in the company of kin. He was never quite just Maximus; always the military man remained.
It was late, when the young centurion left us to our rest. A small cot was brought for me to sleep on, and Maximus erected a curtain between us, so we would have something akin to privacy. I listened to his deep rumble, as he prayed, and fell into slumber, before he was finished.
The winter was mild, so we did not stay long in Ostia. Maximus wanted to get the horses to his brother in Hispania as soon as possible. Justinius was due for leave to return home, and he was eager to go with us. He already had a small group of men, carefully chosen, to accompany us on our travels.
It did not take long for word to fly through camp about the commander’s Celtic slave-woman and the fact that I was filling a position normally held by a man. No one dared question his decision, but it was plain in the eyes of many, as I went about learning my few tasks, that they thought him a bit mad. The older men, while somewhat confused, simply stopped thinking about it, after the days passed. I imagine that they had seen enough in their lifetimes, that one more oddity made little difference. I gave them respect, if a bit tempered by dislike, and they helped me complete my errands for Maximus. The younger men treated me like most soldiers and men did- as a lesser being, though I knew that if I met them in battle, I could have easily bested most. Some were open in their degradation, others eyed me with lasciviousness, as if to say, 'we know you for what you are, the general’s whore.' I was not, but did not feel the need to explain my master, or myself, to them. I may not have liked being enslaved by a soldier, but the disrespect of these younger, as yet untried, men for their leader, was unconscionable to me.
My responsibilities were no more than caring for Maximus’ hunger, looking after the horses, and keeping his armor clean and weapons sharp, or in good repair. On top of that, I bore and retrieved messages for him, and found little things in his tent to keep up. I was never bored. Often, I wondered why he did not already have someone in place to care for those matters.
As he finished his prayers, and I handed him a cup of wine, to help him sleep, I gave voice to my curiosity. He smiled, and mentioned one of the idols in the altar. “Cicero,” he named it. “He used to do what you do, now. He died for Rome, and for me. He was a good friend.” He explained that he and Cicero had been almost like brothers, the manservant’s family had been in the employ of the Meridas family for well over a century. Cicero had been an excellent soldier, and had carried out his other duties, even better. I had large shoes to fill, it seemed.
“Sir.” Maximus did not like being called Lord, or even Master, as I had started to address him, but accepted well enough this title. “You could always call me Maximus, you know,” he had offered, when I began to use the formality. I had refused, and he let the matter drop.
“Yes?” He drained the last of his drink, and I wiped the vessel clean.
“Do you know what the others say about you, for letting me care for those tasks?”
“I’m aware. It is really none of their concern. I don’t ask after the women they use, other than require the surgeon to look after their health, and the harlots’, once a month. Let them talk. You will prove your own worth, in due time. And then, they will cease to see you as a woman, and will only view you as they do any other soldier.” He smiled, certain that what he foresaw would come to pass, and I bid him goodnight, patting the ever-present Lupa on the head.
For a few days though, the gossip stopped, as the camp’s thoughts turned to the celebration of Saturnalia, and away from their commander’s private matters. It was time for feasting and celebration, for giving gifts and masters taking the place of their servants, if only for a short while. The short days would die with the advent of the winter’s solstice, and lengthen again, as Saturn impregnated the earth, and she began life anew, giving birth to spring. Of course, it was a bit different for my people; Cernunnos, the antlered god, would join with Brigantia the mother, and green would blanket the cold world, again. The flames in hearths would be smothered, and lit again, to symbolize the renewal of the cycle of life and death.
During my fire re-lighting ritual in his tent, which I performed on the day that the sun would be at its lowest spot in the sky for the year, Maximus presented me with one of the finest gifts he could have given anyone. It was long and sleek, and newly forged. I hefted the dagger, balancing it in my palm, and watched the gentle light of the dancing flames in the lamp beyond catch on it, seeming to make it glow. The double blades gently curved inward, then back out, then tapered together at the point. The grip had been wrapped in soft sharkskin that had been secured with dyed leather lacing. It was a gift fit for a queen. I looked askance at him, uncertain. Surely he understood, that if I truly wanted to, I could sink it into his flesh, turn it so that it ripped his innards, and run far away, before anyone knew what I had done.
He smiled, reading my thoughts. “I am trusting you to use it to protect yourself from harm, rather than to get way. I think you are honorable, or I would not let you have it. Am I wrong?” I shook my head. It was not a custom of the Celts to give gifts to adults, but to children. However, he had given me something beautiful, useful, and probably pricey, and I could not return the kindness.
“Thank you,” I whispered so low, I could barely hear myself. “I have nothing for you, Sir.” I shook my head sadly, watching the shimmering reflection of the lamps on my knife. I could not look at Maximus. I was ashamed. It was silly, I knew, but my pride was damaged, because I had nothing, and was dependent on him.
“You’re welcome. I’ll tell you what I would like, ” he reached out to tilt my chin up, and look in my eyes. My muscles tightened, one by one, and I waited for the signal to go to his bed, that I was certain was coming. I was his property; he could do what he wished with me. It was not too much to ask of me, it had been done with me before, and I would obey. But I felt a disappointment that I never had, in the temple of Aphrodite, or being raped by my last master and his guards. “I want you to tell me a story,” he finished.
My gaze flew his ocean-colored eyes, and relief evidently showed in my face. A frown formed on his lips. “What did you think, Boadicea? That I would use you wrongly? No. My gift is for you to use on those who would. If I want a woman, I know where to get one.” His glance shifted toward the direction of the harlots’ camp at the end of the army’s rows of tents. I tried to apologize. He waved it off, and strode toward the entrance to his tent, then stopped to turn back to me. “I would hope if you came at all to my bed, it would be because you want to be there, and not because you feel forced.” He stared at me steadily, holding my eyes with his. Then he was gone, to share the evening meal with Justinius.
I slipped the dagger into its sheath, attached it to my belt, then left. I sneaked way from camp, to the bank of the Tiber, and sat on a fallen tree. For a while, I just stared out over the river, watching the moonlight play on the water, as it flowed gently to the sea on the other side of Ostia. I shoved Maximus out of my mind, turning my musings to the gods, and in particular those who would renew the world with their joining.
When I woke, the stars had shifted, and the world was still. I knew it was not past the middle of the night, but I could not hear the laughing and carrying on from the camp. I rose, and realized it was no longer there. The sea, the river, and the stand of trees behind me, were all in their places, but the city and the army were gone. The land was as wild as the day it had been formed. The stars twinkled in joy, patient while I followed an urge to rush into the thick patch of wood. I giggled as the leafless fingers of branches reached out and tickled my naked skin, caressing me like thousands of little suitors, vying for my attention. I shunned them all, racing through them, over the frozen ground, searching for the single being that could fill my soul, and help me start life on the dead earth. My desire was to make the world green, and bring forth flowers and new buddings, before the autumn would slowly kill it again.
I found him, drinking water from a clear pool, and somehow, it did not seem strange that it was not ice. My scent reached him, carrying my readiness to procreate, my desire, my freedom. His head snapped up, the rack of antlers he bore magnificent and powerful. My stag-god took a tentative step toward me, and I did not move, waiting to see what he would do. I was fertile; the smell caused his sex to grow, as he came closer. Then he was running for me, and I broke, leading him over the world, before he finally reached me. Without goring me, he caught me with his antlers, and flipped me onto my back.
I was breathing hard, though not winded, and marveled as he took the form of a man, but the moon was covered by the sun's shadow, and I could not make out his features. It mattered not, for he knelt between my legs, filling me with one long stroke of his member. He took me in his arms, holding me captive, as he continued mating with me. I had never been so full, so loved, so godlike, and I never wanted him to stop impaling me, over and over. But he did, roaring to the sky my name, planting his seed deep within me.
After that, I was alone. I waited, huge with life, for the day I would give it birth. The first pangs of labor came, and with them, an earthquake. As the earth shook, I screamed in fear, calling for the stag-god to remember me, and come for me. As I strained to push the spring out of me, the ground opened up, and lava from its belly splashed on me, as red and hot as the blood of my childbirth. As I labored, the issue from within me began to cover the ground, springing up in people of mixed Roman and Celt blood, and they spread over the planet. Then the god was cradling me, smiling his love and pride over what we had made, soothing my worries with a voice soft as thunder. He had Maximus’ face.
He was shaking me gently, whispering for me to wake up, that it was late. Lupa was licking my hands, and whining. I looked wildly about me, uncertain for a moment where I was, and realized, I had fallen so deep into reverie, that I slept. I smiled sheepishly at my very amused master. We made our way back to camp in silence, but my mind was racing, and walking was a bit painful, as though I had truly just brought a baby into the world. The gods have always spoke to me in dreams, but it would be some time, before I would understand that one.
