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PART EIGHTEEN



The home of Tigris was very much like the houses of Roman nobility, large and ornate. Rather than statues to Roman deities or long-dead men, Tigris instead placed idols of the old gods of the Celtic tribes, most notably, Epona. Unlike my bronze horse figurine, given me by Galen, her true depiction was everywhere, here. She was sitting upon one of her children, a basket of blessings held in her arms.

“You share a goddess with him, too,” Maximus smiled, while I looked in awe about me, to what obviously was a temple of sorts to the horse-goddess.

“He’s very pious,” I observed, as we wound through the hallway after Tigris’ valet. The man himself was attending the games, but would be home soon, we had been informed, when we arrived.

“He claims his grandmother was a Druid priestess.” I said nothing, but it comforted me.

Nonetheless, I was curious. “Does that bother you?”

“Should it?”

“Julius Caesar destroyed the Druids, so that he could conquer the Celts, here.”

He was silent a few moments, while he considered that. “Caesar knew where to hit them where it would hurt the most, I suppose. It was a brilliant move, purely from a military standpoint. Do I think it was right? No. I think if they aren’t inciting rebellion, but going about their business, let them be.” The Druids had caused trouble for Caesar, though. They reminded the chieftains of who we were, and who we had been, which in turn drove the Celts to resist the advance of the legions more. That was the reason Caesar had left off the first invasion of Britannia, so that he could put down the uprising in Gaul.

It was apparent that Maximus was a favored guest here, his room here was even more lavish and cavernous than the one he had used in Gracchus’ home. It overlooked the confluence of the Rhone and Saone Rivers, where the island part of the city rested. The major section was set upon an ancient hill-fort, with the mountains behind. Every year, the sixty tribal heads would converge upon Lugdunum’s amphitheater, to discuss matters pertaining to the future of the Celtic nation, under Rome’s hand.

Maximus’ quarters were just a door down from Tigris’ own, Justinius’ next to that, and mine were over the inner courtyard. Somewhere close by, I could hear the shouts of people, mingled with the clashing of wooden weapons that indicated to me the training ground for Tigris’ gladiators. I trembled a bit, not from fear, but memory. I was glad it was no longer my life, but felt pity for those who still led it. Maximus saw.

“It never goes away. I still have nightmares.” I understood, perfectly. It was hard, living around so much death and pain, and inhumanity. I know I never really got used to it. But as the noise from the school grew more distant, I realized that some could never leave it, for it became a part of them, something to find shelter in, when release and freedom were frightening to them. Tigris took such ones in, though he did buy some from the slave markets, as well.

I wandered around my bedroom, marveling at how beautiful it was. Though not near as decorated as Maximus’, or Justinius’, across the hall, it was the finest I had ever had to myself. I lay back on the wide, soft mattress, feeling as though I could sink into it and sleep for the rest of my life. A few moments were all I was allowed, however. Servants carrying a tub filled with bath water perfumed by rose petals and a few toiletries entered.

The hot water felt good on my skin, and I let it soak away the dirt and ache of days in the saddle, and on the road. I thought it very kind of Tigris to treat me as more a companion of Maximus, than sending me, as was rightful, to quarter with the slaves. I lay back and let my mind wander, my thoughts a muddled jumble of recollection and musings. Maximus’ voice kept invading there, and I remember wishing that the Romans would go away and find someone else to conquer.

He was standing in the doorway, calling to me. He had let himself in, when I failed to answer the first time. I came fully awake, automatically reaching for the dagger or sword that I had carefully placed on the bed, too far away for me to get to, without jumping out of the tub. I stayed where I was.

Never did I fear being raped by the general. He was simply too honorable, and too gentle-hearted. His eyes moved from the weapons that should have been resting close to the tub, then to me, and his jaw clenched, the way I had seen many a man’s do, when they are aroused, and trying to hide it. My hair was not hiding my breasts, and I gripped the sides of the tub, ready to make the leap to where my sword lay. His eyes roamed over me once, then he turned away, gruffly muttering that we were expected at dinner, soon, and I needed to hurry and dress. He fairly slammed the door behind him.

“Maximus!” The voice that hailed my owner belonged to a man that dwarfed us both with his size and manner. He gripped Maximus’ arm with a huge hand, then grabbed him like a little girl’s rag doll, and hugged him. The way the general was being mauled by the huge Gaul, it was comical to imagine that once, they had been opponents, and Maximus had actually held Tigris’ life in his hands. I smiled at the irony of it.

Tigris merely held Justinius’ elbow, and welcomed the nephew of his friend, asking if everything so far, the lodging, the attention of his staff, were sufficient. Justinius assured him it was, then stood aside, when Tigris spied me. I had been studying him, the long scar down the left side of his face reminded me eerily of Livius, but this man had laughing eyes, and unlike Livius, I felt kinship to Tigris.

“My friend, you give beautiful gifts,” he said to Maximus, examining me with the eye of a man who ran gladiators. “You’ve healed well,” he said to me, obviously impressed. He had been with Maximus, to see my last fight.

“Many thanks,” I responded, in our language.

“She’s not the gift I picked out for you, Tigris. She’s done in the ring.” Maximus was grinning, but it did not reach his eyes, quite. It seemed to grieve him to look at me, so I continued my assessment of our host. I noticed that he eschewed the Roman toga that the Meridas men wore over their breeches, and chose instead a tunic of bright yellow, and was cloaked in the Celtic fashion.

Tigris fell in mock disappointment. “I don’t want another gladiator. I’m looking for another wife.” He winked at me.

“She’s not for that, either. I brought the sword I promised you.”

“Ah, good. A weapon is much more useful than a woman,” he teased, then led the way to the feasting hall. “Maybe you should demonstrate how good it is, by carving up the boar.”

Tigris was quite happy with the gift Maximus had had made for him. It resembled very much the Spanish sword the general wore at his side, the pommel made from oak, with gold oak leaves, its grip made of ivory. Justinius had told me once, that Maximus’ father had given the weapon to him, before he had left to join the army. Its replica pleased the big man, he kept turning it, this way and that, letting the light play off the blade.

Maximus was partial to boar, and it was good to see him attack his dinner with relish, washing down bites with swallows of honeyed ale, or apple wine. I knew it was the finest I had tasted, and I was amazed by the hospitality shown us. It was far more than required by Celt law, but it told me a great deal about how Tigris esteemed Maximus. He had invited friends to celebrate Maximus' visit, and had spared no expense, with the feast. I had never eaten from a silver plate, before. As we finished course after course, consuming more than our usual quantities of food, the company with us at the table gradually began to dwindle. Tigris’ wife, a quiet, tall woman with soft gray eyes and a tender smile, saw them out then took her leave of us.

I was sleepy, from having eaten so much, and got up to go, as well. Maximus halted me, mouthing silently, ‘Stay.’ I took my seat again, next to Justinius, and waved off further wine. Tigris set his gift down in front of him, and settled back in the low-slung chair he occupied at the head of the table.

“Why do I think you are not here just for supplies and to visit?” He was addressing Maximus, but looking at me.

“Not really much more than that. I would like to know if you know where Livius is. He saw me in Rome.”

“He’s here, now. I heard about that visit, from a friend. You told him she was dead.”

Maximus laughed, “Lucilla once told me, that she could always tell when I was lying, because I was never any good at it. I didn’t think he believed me.”

Tigris did not share the humor of it. “He didn’t.” He was still watching me. I could tell his mind was on something related to my affairs with Livius, but exactly what he was thinking, was indecipherable.

Maximus caught it, as well. “What?”

“He put a price on her head.” Justinius gripped my wrist, reassuringly. Maximus was swearing. Cold crept into every muscle and bone in my body.

It sounded like someone other than myself, when I asked, “How much?” There was a stain of wine or blood on the table that held my attention. It seemed an omen to me. All I could do, was stare at it. Had it only been Livius after me, I would have feared nothing. But with a reward out for my life, I would be expecting every bounty hunter in all the Empire to lie in wait for me, no matter where I went. It was not just myself that I worried for, though. Justinius’ touch felt already like the hold of a dead man. I looked up to Maximus, seeing him as if a ghost. His eyes tried to impart courage to me, across the table.

“One hundred thousand denarii, whether you are alive, or not,” Tigris informed me gravely. Justinius whistled.

“Well, that’s less than he offered me for you,” Maximus was trying to cheer me, but it had the adverse affect.

“You should have taken it. You’d have lived longer.” I got up from my seat, and strode quickly past the torch-lit Epona idols, to my room. I tore the dress that Julia had given me off, and frantically pulled on my riding clothes. If I left then, I would get home in a matter of weeks, and be hidden safely in the land of the Caledonii, before I could be found by the first of the prize-collectors. I knew I was breaking my bargain with Maximus, but the more distance I put between us, the safer he, Justinius, and everyone else I cared for would be.

Slinging the long-bladed sword over my back, I crept softly out of the back of the house, to the stables. The gelding I used at the time nickered at me, searching for treats, while I saddled him. I sent up a fervent prayer to Epona, to guide us, and make our path swift. Then I begged her to protect Maximus and Justinius, as they did the only thing they would be able to. Continue on to Vindobona, without me.

“Did you think you would get far?” The general leaned against one of the stall posts, arms crossed. He was trying not to seem amused, by my need to run, like a scared rabbit from the fox.

“I can’t stay.”

“What do you think will happen to you, alone? There’s more safety for you, if you go with us. And may I remind you, you belong to me?”

“The price on my head, extends to you, Sir.” I finished hooking the straps of the bridle.

“I’m aware of that. Please trust me. I told you once that I would protect you, and I will. Only the stakes have changed.”

“And I’m trying to protect you.” In an afterthought, I added, “You should have let me die.”

“If that was the gods’ will for you, I would have. Fortunately, I think they had something else in mind, so it was out of my hands.” He looked up at Epona, with her basket of blessings. “Yes?” he directed to her, and smiled back at me. I did my best to put up a brave front, though I was still just a step away from mounting, and fleeing. I took the tack off my poor, confused animal, and followed Maximus back to the dining hall, where Justinius and Tigris were talking in hushed tones.

Justinius got a look at my change of clothing, and groaned, almost his uncle’s exact words, “Where did you think you were going to go?”

“As far from you, as I could get,” I said it lightly, disparagingly, but the true meaning of my words, was no laughing matter.

“You prefer the company of your horse?” A flash of white, even teeth.

“To you, yes. He smells better, and the quality of conversation is higher.” Tigris grinned his approval. He did not need to tell me, in words, that our people always rallied back, even if we were temporarily beaten. He and I would talk about it at length, later, after the Meridas’ had gone to bed.

I asked him about his grandmother, the Druid, and he inquired about Britannia, stating he had always wanted to go there, and see what our people were like. It was the first time I had truly spoken my own language, fluently, in years. The Gauls in our retinue spoke the common mixture, like the slaves and gladiators. Some of our words were different, but we communicated easily. He showed me from the window the temple of Cybele, the goddess I knew as Brigantia, promising to take me there the next day, so that I could offer up prayers, and spend time making a decision as to how to approach my dilemma.

He offered me one piece of advice. “Stay with Maximus, and trust him only, until Livius is dead. That is when the blood price will lift. It’s a lot of money, for a woman. They will all think you’re an easy mark, though, and that will breed even more hunters. Keep your eyes and ears open.” When I left him, I fell into bed, and slept more deeply than I had since leaving Rome. My dreams were frightening, though, so I did not wake, until late the next day.

I went looking for my master and the others, and heard the sounds of Tigris’ warriors practicing. Not resisting the urge to go and see them, I found the gate that led out to the training grounds. Maximus and Tigris were discussing different fighters, good points, and problems to improve on. Maximus made room for me on the bench where they sat, noting the dark circles under my eyes. They felt like bruises.

“Didn’t sleep well, did you?” I shook my head.

“Longer than I should have, too.” He patted my knee, unconcerned, then we watched the gladiators.

They were like any, anywhere. They were all different heights and builds; each had their strength and their weakness. I knew that most of Tigris’ were winners, and well trained. I had fought two of them, the Numibian woman, and a Northman. I could see him below, as he worked with the new recruits.

Our fight had concluded as a draw, we were so evenly matched. We finally wore one another out. He had size and reach; I had agility and speed. Our weapons were almost identical, and that was why it had been different with him, than his schoolmate. It had been rather funny, as we sat down together, and shook hands, while we left drops of blood on the sand of the Coliseum. The spectators screamed for us to get up and kill each other; we just giggled. I had always wondered how Tigris felt about that day; Pontius had ordered me beaten and starved.

“Do you remember the day you fought him?” Tigris saw where my attention was drawn.

“Aye.”

“You’d still be fighting him, if you hadn’t called it even.” He must have thought it humorous, too.

“You weren’t angry?”

“No. It happens. Gunthar still talks about that day. He’ll be glad to see you. How about Pontius?” He and Maximus were both waiting for the answer.

“He lost money.” They nodded as one. They had guessed my punishment. After a while, we walked down the stairs to see the Northman, Gunthar. Upon seeing me, he broke into laughter, as though we were still in the arena, unable to get leverage against the other. He challenged me to a friendly match, each of us to use a radius, the wooden practice sword of the gladiator.

“As much as I would like to watch, we don’t have a millennia,” the general reminded me. I hated to decline, but he was right. Tigris was going to take me to the temple that day, and Maximus wanted to check on the progress of the Gauls. I asked after Justinius, for I missed his presence.

“I’m not sure where he is,” Maximus noticed his absence, for the first time.

“Check the stables,” Tigris offered. I caught his meaning, and snorted. Maximus raised his chin to me, and cocked an eyebrow.

“He caught the eye of some of the serving girls,” I explained, “and one caught his.” Maximus apparently did not know what to make of that, for in the flash of seconds, it seemed as though his visage could not decide which statement to wear. It finally settled on exasperation. I did not know what he expected of Justinius, his nephew was barely twenty-one winters, and was hurting nothing. It was wrong to expect him to repress his desires, because he had yet to love the way Maximus had. He started toward the stables, but I stopped him.

“Let him be.”

“We have things to do, today.”

“Nothing that we need him for.”

He drew himself up, until he could not stand taller. “He’s a soldier. There will be plenty of time for that, after.”

“No, you will find something else for him to do. Just because you don’t need a woman, shouldn’t mean that he doesn’t, either.” He looked over my shoulder. Tigris was coming.

“Did Julia tell you to talk to me, like this?” he hissed.

“No, she told me to hit you, again.” He grinned helplessly, deflated.

“All right, we’ll leave him to his womanizing. But no more insolence out of you.”

“No, Sir.”

The Gauls were ready, and had got more than they expected from the garrison commander in Lugdunum. His answer to Maximus’ request for provisions was that the general could have as much as he needed; the prefect only wished he could go with us. Maximus asked the senior soldier, where the other half of the party was.

“Home with their families, Sir,” I translated. Maximus agreed it was fine, just admonished the man to make certain all were accounted for, before we met them again. We continued on to the temple, trailing behind Tigris.

At the courtyard of the holy place, I asked the men if they would let me pray alone. Before we had left the house, I had changed back into the green dress, relieved I had not destroyed it, in my haste to leave. I wanted to be presentable to the goddess. Maximus held my dagger, so that I would not offend Cybele, or her accolytes. Trepidation gripped me, as I made my way up the steps to the altar. I did not know the proper rituals for her, but I hoped she forgave me, as I called on the name of Brigantia, humbly.

For a while, I just knelt in front of the altar, not certain what to ask for. My thoughts were racing, all vying for first place in my addled brain. All I understood was that my own counsel no longer seemed to serve me, because all I had held certain in my life was changing. I was no longer the person I had believed myself to be, either.

“Mother Brigantia. I need guidance.”

“In what, Daughter?” A woman dressed in white robes I assumed were those of a priestess, seated herself on the floor beside me. I had not heard her enter. She caught my arm, and bade me stay when I rose, stammering an apology for being where I should not.

“Intruding? In a temple? It’s here for the faithful to pray.”

“I don’t know the right way, here.”

“There is no right way, anywhere. The gods hear their servants, however they choose to speak. It’s people who make the traditions.” She was smiling, like a mother to a child with a hurt to be kissed away. She looked like my mother, I realized, with her pale hair and crystalline eyes that drew me into her own soul, and hid me from my fears.

“Now, what is bothering you? Maybe I can help.” As though I had known her all of my life, I found myself talking to this stranger, pouring out the reservoir of my soul to her. I told her about my life, the visions I was certain came from the gods, the sleeping when I was very upset, Maximus, the death mark on me, keeping nothing secret. The flood of my heart finally dried up, with the admission that I no longer knew what to cling to.

She turned my face up, so she could gaze into my eyes. “Hold on to the hands of your gods.” She took mine in hers; they seemed large and warm and safe. “When they test you, it is to see how fit you are to receive their blessings. They obviously love you very much, and have something special planned for you. Listen to your dreams, and try not to lose your faith.” She kissed my forehead. My tears fell, as she slid her arms around me, to hold me while I wept, the way my mother had done when I was small, and frightened of the lightning and thunder. Now, I was facing a different storm, and I was terrified.

How long I cried, I do not know. Maximus came for me, when he became concerned about my prolonged visit. The priestess was gone, though the sheltering essence of her embrace remained. She had left as quietly as she had entered. I addressed the priest who had guided Maximus into the temple.

“Where is the priestess I spoke with? I want to thank her.” He looked quizzically at Maximus, who shrugged, then at me, again.

“There are no priestesses of Cybele, here.”



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