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Though he understood none of the words, Maximus respectfully listened to the eulogies I uttered from memory, while we knelt side by side in the quiet, lonely thicket that harbored the graves of the dead. The woody essence of oak boughs and pine needles, intermingling with the soft fragrance of wild roses laid about, wafted from the grove, and from offerings to the gods left by the Gauls who had labored long to give my sister and her escort a burial. The gesture lightened the load of lamentation from my spirits a bit, as did the sympathy with which many greeted me, that morning.The funeral was short, and when the little ceremony was over, the tears overtook me, and I made no effort to hold them back. The general laid a gentle hand on my shoulder, lending me the strength of his empathy. Bereavement left me feeling battered and exhausted. From nowhere, Maximus produced a bit of cloth, for me to dry my eyes with. I did the best I could to smile, and laid my hand over his in gratitude, for the comfort he offered. We stayed there a while longer, as the tide of sadness ebbed, and left the gritty salt of my tears.
"I looked at the world through dead eyes. Life had no meaning, without them." Maximus' low whisper brought me out of my own thoughts, into his. He meant his wife and son. Unlike myself, he had had to mourn them, alone. He went on, almost to himself, but I knew it was for my peace of heart, that he shared his pain. "I kept telling myself, that I should have ridden harder, and known that Commodus would send men out before he had me woken by Quintus. I could have taken a different route. I should have brought them with me, or sent them to live with Antonius and Julia. If I'd only given Marcus an answer sooner. So many should haves, could haves, and would haves. In the end, it didn't matter- they were gone. And the gods would not let me join them. They had other uses for me." He was looking somewhere only he could see, but his grip on my shoulder tightened. He knew what I was thinking, and that I blamed the spiritual world and myself for my sister's demise.
"Did you hate the gods?" It was very difficult to invoke their attention, as I said good-bye.
"Yes. Sometimes, I still do."
"Only sometimes?" I could not see that I would ever find my faith again. The gods liked to play games, and I was an unwilling pawn.
"I miss my family, every day. I always will. There is a place in my heart, where only they can reside. But the gods have given me some wonderful things, since. I would be blind, not to see that." Maximus taught me many things, most of them, without intention. That day, as the world went on, and Maximus allowed me inside his soul, I started to understand that there are times the gods must be cruel, to be kind. Brigantia had tried to tell me that in Cybele's temple, but Maximus' sharing impressed it upon my mind.
As the camp prepared to cross the Rhine, I found time to procure a list from Justinius of the men that had dug the graves, in order to thank them, when we were settled at Vindobona. There was going to be little time in the next few days to do so. We would be moving faster, as the mountains became smaller, though we would be on heavily forested roads. We would not pitch tents, but keep everything packed, and rests would be taken only for the noon meal, and to sleep. Rufio led the procession; Maximus stayed to the back, to overlook the train, ensuring we moved in order, with little trouble. The six wagons were the hardest, so they went first, with several teams of soldiers following directly behind them, wading after with pry bars, to dislodge them on the chance they got stuck in hidden sandbars. Next was the cavalry, led by Macrinus and Justinius, and then, the herd of extra horses and mules, driven by the rest of the century, and the dogs. I held my place next to Maximus. Had we been marching with the legion, I would have already gone with the supply wagon that bore the general's things, but we still enjoyed a somewhat loose command, so I stayed, and took a last gaze toward the cemetery by the lake.
"Do you see her?" I whispered to Maximus, not turning to him, so that the dark woman that stood where the tents had been that morning would not be alarmed at having been noticed.
"Yes. I was wondering if she would try to follow us." He took my cue, and kept his eyes on his men.
"You knew about her?"
"One of the night watch caught her sleeping by the graves, and food was reported missing, this morning."
"Should we do anything about her?"
"No, we shouldn't. But if she'll follow you, we will let her come along." A few feet away, the general stopped me. "Boudicca. Don't be too long. If she chooses not to come, there is nothing you can do. Let the gods do their will. She's not your responsibility." He could not bear the idea of leaving the woman alone here to die, either from starvation or at the hands of yet more brigands. However, it was a risk. Having me with him was ordeal enough and I was well able to defend myself, if I needed to. He had use for me, as well. To bring her with us was folly. Maximus could not spare men to take her to the next city, for it was likely that she was simply a servant, judging her attire. There was the life of a whore only, at Vindobona, and it would be days yet, before we reached there. On the way, she would be subjected to all sorts of male attention, and the general did not own her, so he would be hard-pressed to defend her, justifiably. She was a liability, all around. But his honor won over practicality.
She was smaller even than Julia, and for a moment, it looked as though she would disappear into the forest, when I rode up to her. The fear was fleeting, and shifted to an infiltrating gaze, that seemed to search me for something particular. She waited for me to address her, head bowed in the customary gesture of slavish submission, though she peeked from under long lashes, to continue her study of me. I spoke in the Roman language to her first, but uncomprehending flashed in the soft brown eyes, so I tried in Greek, "You may ride with us, if you like." Her gaze shifted to the group of soldiers growing smaller, as they crossed the river, then back to me, then in the direction of the graves. "There's nothing here. At least with us, you'll have a full stomach, and a place to sleep." She thought on it for seconds, then took my offered hand.
"What should I call you?" I asked over my shoulder, as my horse splashed through the shallow depths of the river. Laughing sprites, taking the voice of water softly lapping on exposed stones from the riverbed, called for us to come and play with them.
"Cassandra, Mistress." Suddenly, I understood why Maximus was uncomfortable with a deferent title. I was, for all intents and purposes, still a slave. I knew what it was to feel like nobody, dependent on the leave of another. She was now a freed-woman, for neither Maximus nor I would make a slave of her.
"Boudicca, please." Disappointment flooded her features.
"What?" Cassandra shook her head, only kept her embrace tight, in order to keep from falling off my gelding, as we caught up to my companions.
Other than those that preferred men, eyes followed the Greek woman as we picked our way between supply wagons to Maximus and Justinius, during the mid-day stop. She was a heavily bosomed and lovely girl, with full lips and wide-set, fawn-colored eyes. She was curved elsewhere, the way men like women. Dark hair framed her body, from head to hips. Justinius openly gaped, while we ate together, and Maximus was more than unhappy about the diversion. There were moments during the next few days, though, that I caught him glancing in her direction, allowing himself to be distracted, for minutes at a time. He would imperceptibly shake himself, and again focus his attention to duties at hand. And I discovered too, that it saddened me, for I was well aware that I had none of the features that seemed to hold his notice. I was tall, and pale and plain, in comparison to Cassandra. It had never bothered me, before, that I might not be thought beautiful or desirable. And since I had a purpose other than a man's needs for being in the company of Maximus, it was even more unsettling that I was giving thought to it, at all.
Julia's distress that I paid little mind to the matters women usually think about began to make sense. I looked after my appearance, in so much as I brushed and braided my hair every day, but it was always for a practical reason- to keep it out of the way, as I went about my responsibilities. I bathed, and made sure my clothing was in good repair. Other than the dresses I wore for special occasions, and leaving my hair loose, I did no other thing different about the way I presented myself. I knew about cosmetics to make my face seem prettier, because I had been a prostitute, but I did not like them, they felt heavy, and seemed garish against my coloring. I could allow a man to use me, and knew many ways in which they liked to be pleasured, but it had never made me feel good. It had been something necessary, to service the followers of Aphrodite, to make my beloved daughter, to seal an alliance. Sex had been too, a thing to hate, because it always meant that my body was not quite my own, but belonged to another. I had never given myself to anyone, simply because I wanted to. The idea was foreign, and frightening.
At the end of the second day Cassandra was with us, Maximus found me and held my gelding, murmuring to the animal and scratching him between the ears, while I examined the bruise on his rear foot. "Will he hold up, tomorrow? Or do you want to give him a rest, and use another, while he heals?"
"He'll be fine. He probably shouldn't carry two, though. It's a hard pace, for that."
He nodded. "Find out if Cassandra knows how to ride. If not, we'll put her on one of the wagons. She will have to earn her keep somehow, too." I acknowledged the truth of his words, and watched her fill our plates with rations, by the cook fires. I had a myriad of questions I wanted to ask her, besides the ones the general wanted answers for. I shrugged; it would wait, and went back to caring for my horse. I wrapped the leg with hyssop leaves, tying them in place, with strips of cloth.
"I've never seen that done with horses, before," Maximus observed.
"It works. Soothes the bruising, just like on people."
"I may have to lend you to the surgeons, when we get to Vindobona," he thought out loud. "They always need extra hands. I'm sure the herders would like to know a bit of what you can do with your skills, as well."
"Are you tired of me, already, Sir?" There were plenty of tasks for me to complete for him, when we again camped under the Felix banners. But perhaps I was more a problem lately, than he had thought, and not the warrior he considered me to be, when he had bargained for my life. The idea of losing Maximus' approval was a dull sword that stabbed through my heart and stomach, making me sick with concern.
"Why would you think that? If I am unhappy with your service, I'll tell you so, and expect you to make the necessary changes. You should know me better, by now." I flushed with embarrassment, which he found humorous. "No, I was thinking you might be better put to use as a healer, than as a messenger and housekeeper. Whether or not the army is busy, the physicians always are." On an impulse, he reached out and lifted my chin, regardless of who might see, like he had the day he gave me the blade that rested at the small of my back, the gift that caused me to feel small and unworthy of his kindness. I felt like that, again, when his thumb brushed my cheek. "You worry too much," he chided. Chagrined, I looked away. As always, he was right. Only for Maximus, though, did I care so much to live up to anyone's ideal of me.
Had I been able to move alongside the wagon that bore Cassandra, I would have dearly treasured the chance to begin to quiz her about the thoughts that raged through my mind. Unfortunately, I had competition from others, who only wanted to make eyes at her, foremost of them, Justinius, who found excuses to check the wagon at every opportunity, to make sure nothing was amiss. Maximus muttered dryly to me, that the only thing his nephew was worried about missing, was a moment to be around the Greek girl. The wagons were secure; the drivers always impressive in their attention to their jobs. The big African soldier that drove the one Cassandra sat upon remarked, as he handed her down at one of our night stops, that when I asked if he needed assistance, he knew I meant to help him, as well as retrieve my guest. "They," he gestured toward the cluster of soldiers gathering to be fed, "are only in my way. I can do it faster, alone."
Cassandra said little, but she always seemed glad to see me. She did things to show her appreciation for her rescue; she looked after Maximus' and my personal belongings, and took over some of the more mundane tasks I had previously been in charge of, for the general. That left me free to look after my other duties more carefully, and build a store of plants and other things that I needed, to keep everyone healthy, and for future use. Always though, she seemed to be looking for a certain something in me, but could never seem to gather the courage to ask or tell me what it was. But neither could I decide on a way to approach her, about what she knew of my sister. Since admirers surrounded her most of the day, the only other time to ask was at night, while we cleaned our plates of supper. Maximus spoke no Greek, and Justinius' grasp of the language, he said, was only basic words and phrases, so privacy was not an issue around our fire. It was simply a matter of her comfort, speaking in the presence of the Meridas', in particular, Maximus. If it was because of his position, or just because he was attractive, I could not discern, but she was nervous around him. Justinius seemed to catch her eye and hold it, as much as she did his.
Finally, I could stand not knowing any longer. I helped her wash the dinner dishes, and settled across our fire from her. "The day I told you my name, you looked sad. Why?" I waited, patiently.
Glancing at Maximus, and gathering some sort of courage, she whispered, "You look like my mistress, some. I thought you were her sister that she always talked about. But you have a different name. And she thin…thought, that her sister is already dead." Cassandra examined me, while I assessed her information, and formed a response. Justinius obviously understood enough of her tongue that he too, stared steadily at me. I knew I should have translated for Maximus, but I was speechless, while I tried to imagine my kinswoman speaking about me, and what sorts of things she might have said, or what she would have remembered to her hand-maiden Cassandra, regarding me. She had believed me already waiting for her in the Otherworld. I wonder if it saddened her, when she was borne to the distant shore of the land of spirits, that I was not there to greet her, but still lived in this world.
"What was her sister's name?" I already knew the answer. And I knew that Cassandra must have known I did. She could not have been far away, when I mourned the dead woman in my arms, and screamed my rage and loss for the world to hear. She was probably watching, when Maximus and I held the service for the deceased, before leaving them to rest forever.
"Jocylainn." My birth name meant 'Joy'. I had not been called by it, in some three years, nor would I ever be again. But it was with joy I was conceived, and brought into the world, and joy that lit my parents' faces, when they held me tight, as a child. It was with joy that she, who remembered me, thought about me, after we were torn away from one another. "It was a good name, I suppose. But it's Boudicca, now. I was renamed." She nodded, understanding, satisfied with the idea that she had found what she was looking for. I would tell her later the story of my life, but that night, I plied her with queries about my sister.
Rowena found herself in Hispania, a prize for the slave market at Emerita Augusta. Not an hour after she was presented, a wealthy Roman from the province of Mauretania paid a hefty sum for her, more than my first master would have dreamed of purchasing me for. She cost her lord ten-thousand gold pieces, though he would tell her, long before he made her his wife, that he would have given all his possessions to have her. Theirs was a quiet life, filled with happiness at just being together, and seeing the wonders of the world. They were on their way to Britannia, when they were set upon by thieves, and were together in the afterlife. They left no children behind, only a servant who loved and missed them, and wept unabashedly, while she answered my questions.
I was still angry with the gods for taking her from me, but I did manage to send up thanks, that my sister had a life of ease, and love, and had not seen the living death of slavery.
