Britannia 65AD
Dragus stood at the back of the cave they had called home for the last few months. All smell of the pigs had gone and the cave was sub divided by walls of interweaved willow for privacy. Rubria had her own large space as befitted her position whilst Dragus and Rose each had their own, smaller stalls, though most nights saw Rose creeping into Dragus’s bed space when Rubria was sleeping. The Centurion and the slave had grown close over the last few months and despite the obvious physical benefits, had come to realise they had feelings for each other.
‘Soup?’ asked Rose, walking up to him with an iron tankard containing a hearty broth.
‘Thanks,’ he said, and nodded towards Rubria’s stall. ‘How is she?’
‘As good as can be expected,’ she said, ‘Seems to have come to terms with it at last.’
Not long after moving into the cave Rubria had realised what was happening to her body and at first found the idea repugnant and went into denial. However, when it became obvious and there was nothing she could do about it, she became resigned to the idea and started to make the cave as comfortable as possible for the baby’s arrival.
‘Has she said who the father is?’ asked Dragus.
‘She hasn’t said anything, except she has lain with no man voluntarily.’
‘Then my worst fears are confirmed, the child’s father must be Nero.
‘By the Gods, Dragus,’ said Rose, ‘Do you realise what you are saying? Because, if that is the case, then it is no ordinary baby in her womb, but the child of an Emperor. If it is born male, he would be the firstborn heir to Nero and be the rightful successor to the most powerful role in the world. If Nero found out he had a son he would scour the far corners of the earth to bring him back to Rome.’
‘That’s if his enemies didn’t find him first,’ said Dragus, ‘They would be just as keen to find any heir, though their motives would be far different, I fear.’
‘Then that’s it, said Rose, ‘Eventually the truth will come out and as soon as it does, our fate will be sealed.’
‘Then we have to get from here,’ said Dragus, ‘Find somewhere we can settle down in safety.’
‘We cannot leave now, the birth is too near, and besides, Blackthorn won’t let us go. He sees Rubria as a bride for Reynard, remember?’
‘I know, said Dragus, ‘But we can’t stay here. I have to convince Blackthorn to let us go.’
‘How?
‘I don’t know,’ said Dragus, ‘But I’ll think of something. I have to.’
Dragus sat nervously in front of Blackthorn in the Chieftain’s hut. He had been invited to share a skin of wine with the leader, and they passed it around the circle of elders sat around the fire. He looked across the flames to stare at the man who held the fates of all three fugitives in his hands.
Blackthorn took a last swig from the skin and belched before staring into Dragus’s eyes.
‘So, Roman,’ he said, ‘The woman’s time is nearly here.’
‘It is,’ said Dragus, ‘The women of the tribe are with her. The child will be with us before the sun sets tomorrow.’
‘Good,’ said the Chieftain, ‘My son has been patient long enough. He will take her as his bride as soon as she has seen her first blood after the birth.’
‘Blackthorn,’ said Dragus, ‘You have indeed been very patient and we are grateful for your protection and hospitality, but I am not sure about the joining of your son and Rubria.’
‘Your worries are not my concern,’ said Blackthorn, ‘The union will go ahead as discussed.’
‘But she is a Roman Priestess,’ said Dragus, ‘A Vestal Virgin who knows nothing about such things.’
‘She will learn our ways,’ said Blackthorn, ‘And bear me many grandsons. What better fate could a woman have than to marry the son of a Chieftain?’
Dragus’s head bowed and he paused before speaking again.
‘There is more,’ he said, ‘Something you should know.’
Blackthorn waited for him to continue.
‘I think I know the child’s father.’
Blackthorn’s eyes raised in surprise.
‘You said she had lain with no man.’
‘And she hasn’t, at least not voluntarily, answered Dragus, ‘But she was raped and would not name the rapist because of who he is.’
‘Do you want me to kill this man?’ asked Blackthorn.
Dragus hid a smile.
‘That is a very appealing thought,’ said Dragus, ‘But I fear he is out of the reach of even your mighty sword. It is none other than Nero himself.’
‘The Roman king?’ laughed Blackthorn, ‘If this is so, then she was not raped. A king can take any woman he wants.’
‘Emperor,’ corrected Dragus, ‘And in our lands, rape is rape. We cannot do anything about it but there may be repercussions.’
‘Explain.’
‘The women are saying the child will be a girl. If this is true, then there may not be a problem, but if it is a boy, he will be the son of a Roman Emperor, and heir to the Empire. If this news gets out, the Romans will send an army to retrieve him, or kill him depending on who gives the order.’
‘Why should this concern me?’
‘They will take the boy and his mother away. You will be seen as an accomplice whatever the outcome and they will wipe your tribe out. Every man, woman and child will die or be sold into slavery. You and your family will be taken to Rome and paraded through the streets as a common criminal before being strangled in the Forum in front of the Senate.’
‘You do not know this.’
‘Trust me, I am Roman and know how it works.’
‘Then where does this leave us, Roman?’ asked Blackthorn, ‘I will not see my people die for the sake of one child.’
‘There is no need,’ said Dragus. ‘Let the woman recover and allow us to be on our way. No one need ever know we were here and you can go about your business as before.’
‘And my son?’
‘He has the choice of a hundred women. His attention will soon settle elsewhere.’
‘I have another way,’ said Blackthorn, ‘I could just kill you all and feed you to the pigs. No one would ever know of your time here.’
‘You could,’ said Dragus, ‘But what man would risk the wrath of a Goddess as powerful as Vesta. Kill one of her Priestesses and her fury would descend upon your people like the worst storm you have ever seen.’
‘Do you threaten me, Roman?’
‘No great chief, I only seek what is best for all of us.’
Blackthorn sat back in silence, staring at the foreigner. He was afraid of nothing, apart from the gods, but as a child he had also seen the power of the Romans, slaughtering everyone before them during their invasion. He knew that Dragus was telling the truth. Eventually he spoke again.
‘Tomorrow, when the child is born, we will decide,’ he said, ‘But tonight we will drink. He threw the wine skin over to Dragus. ‘Drink deep, Roman, there are plenty more skins to drain before the sun rises.’
Dragus unplugged the stopper with his teeth and lifted the neck up to his mouth. He had played the game, the die was cast. Their fates were now in the hands of the gods, and a certain unborn baby.
— -
The following morning saw the entire village gathered in silence around the cave entrance. Word had been sent that the birth was imminent and a hung-over Dragus dragged himself from the quilt of furs where he had fallen several hours earlier. He left the hut and dipped his head in a horse trough to bring himself around. There was no sign of the Chief but he followed the crowd up to the cave and made his way to the front of the throng. Blackthorn and his son were already there, neither showing any sign of the heavy drinking session.
‘You must have the head of an ox,’ said Dragus.
‘And you, a stomach of a child,’ answered Blackthorn.
‘It seems I underestimated the strength of your ale.’
A commotion at the cave drew their attention. An old woman came out and talked in hushed whispers to the smaller group. Two of the women rushed into the cave while another came quickly down the slope to talk to the chief, talking in a dialect Dragus couldn’t understand. When she had finished, the chief dismissed her and she made her way quickly back up to the cave.
‘What’s the problem?’ asked Dragus, ‘Is the child okay?’
‘Things do not go as expected,’ said the chieftain.
Dragus stepped forward to make his way up to the cave, but the grip of the Chieftain on his arm prevented him.
‘This business is not for men,’ he said. ‘The women are with her. Leave it to them.’
‘She may need me,’ said Dragus.
‘She has her slave and her Goddess,’ said Blackthorn, ‘With their help she will be okay.’
Inside the cave, Rose stood to one side of the cave, waiting for the midwives to finish their work. Rubria had already given birth, relatively easily, and the sound of the baby crying was a welcome relief to all present, however, now the attention of the old women was now totally focussed on the mother. Gradually, one by one they left the Priestesses side until eventually only one was left. She looked around and caught Rose’s eye, shaking her head slightly to confirm Rose’s worst fears. She beckoned her over to the pile of furs where Rubria lay. Rose waked forward, her heart sinking and the old woman moved out of the way, rubbing the ex slave’s shoulder in sympathy as they exchanged places at the bedside. Rose fell to her knees alongside Rubria, tears flowing like rivers down her face.
‘Mistress,’ she whispered, picking up one of Rubria’s hands.
The Priestess opened her eyes and tried to focus on the slave who had become her friend.
‘Rose?’ she whispered.
‘Yes, mistress, said Rose, ‘I am here.’
‘Is the child okay, Rose?’
‘Yes, Miss, a beautiful baby girl. I will bring her to you.’
‘Wait,’ said Rubria, ‘There are things that must be said.’
‘There will be time for words later, Miss,’ said Rose.
‘No there won’t,’ said Rubria, ‘I have learnt enough of these peoples words to know I am dying.’
Rose’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to burst from her very soul.
‘Rose,’ continued Rubria, ‘We have come a long way you and I, and you are a free woman, But there is something I would ask of you.’
‘Anything,’ whispered Rose, almost silently.
‘The child,’ said Rubria, I want you to care for her as if she was your own. Bring her up in the ways of the Goddess. Teach her the devotions and the rituals that have been part of me for as long as I can remember. Will you do that?’
Rose nodded, and wiped the tears from her face with the sleeve of her shawl.
‘Of course I will,’ she said.
‘Also,’ said Rubria, weakly, ‘The child will need a father to protect her. Make an honest man of Dragus and take him as your man.’
‘I am a slave, Miss, I am not sure he will see me as a suitable match.’
‘You are a free woman, Rose, and I have seen the way he looks at you,’ said Rubria, ‘But men are stupid in these matters, you will have to take the lead. Besides, the attraction seemed mutual in the darkest hours of the cold nights.’
‘You have heard us?’ asked Rose, feeling the blush starting on her cheeks.
‘Don’t fret, Rose,’ said, the Priestess, ‘You have your needs, and truth be told, there were times when I envied the protecting embrace of a man when I was afraid. Alas, it seems the mother has other plans for me.’
‘Oh, Miss,’ started Rose.
‘Wait,’ said Rubria, ‘There is one more thing you must do.’ She spent the next few minutes explaining the task to her friend before collapsing weakly back onto the firs.
‘I grow tired,’ she said, ‘Do you understand everything I have said.’
‘Yes, Miss,’ said Rose, ‘Though it is a big undertaking.’
‘I know you can do it, Rose,’ said Rubria, ‘Now, bring me my daughter so I can take the memory of her into the next life.’
Rose stood up and collected the baby from one of the women remaining in the cave. She placed her in the arms of the Priestess and pulled the linen cloth back from around the child’s head so Rubria could see her face.
‘She’s beautiful,’ whispered Rubria, her own tears beginning to roll.
The baby woke up and gazed into her mothers eyes for the first and last time.
Rubria gasped in astonishment.
‘Holy, Mother,’ she whispered, ‘Look at her eyes, Rose, have you ever seen any so beautiful.’
Rose looked down, and though the imminent death of her Priestess was foremost in her mind, the astonishing depth of blue that stared back at her was like nothing she had ever seen.
‘She is truly blessed by the Goddess,’ said Rose.
‘Look after her, Rose.’
‘I will, Miss,’ cried Rose, ‘By all the God’s in the heavens, I promise you she will be brought up safe and in the ways of Vesta.’
‘Then I will die happy,’ said Rubria.
Outside the cave, the crowd had fallen silent, and Dragus sat with his back against a tree waiting to be told something. Finally, thirty minutes later, the morning air was shattered by a chorus of unearthly wails, echoing out of the cave and around the valley as all the women started their mourning.
Dragus jumped to his feet, and ran up the hill. This time, nobody tried to stop him. He burst passed the several women at the cave mouth and entered the cavern. Rose was knelt by the side of Rubria’s body, smoothing her sweat-soaked blonde hair back from her cold brow. Any colour had gone and Dragus knew the Priestess was dead. He knelt besides Rose and put his arms around her shoulders.
‘What happened?’ he asked.
‘The birth was too much for her,’ said Rose, not taking her eyes off the Priestess, ‘She gave everything she had but in the end was too weak.’
‘The child?’ asked Dragus, looking around.
‘She is fine,’ said Rose, ‘The midwives are seeing to her needs for now, but it is you and I who will raise her. Rubria wished it so.’ She looked up at him through glistening eyes. ‘Is that okay?’
‘Of course it is,’ he said.
They stayed with the body for over an hour before the women took it away to prepare for burial. Finally they were alone.
‘I can’t believe she has gone,’ said Dragus eventually, the words echoing around the cave.
‘She hasn’t,’ said Rose
‘Sorry, I don’t understand,’ said Dragus
‘She is here,’ said Rose looking up to the cave ceiling, ‘All around us. Her spirit inhabits these walls, and always will.’
‘You don’t know that,’ said Dragus.
‘Oh but I do,’ said Rose, ‘She told me herself before she died.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She made me promise three things,’ said Rose, ‘The first two was to look after the child and you, but the third is a lifetimes work. She made me promise that I would build a Temple to Vesta, and bring up the child in the way of the goddess.’
‘What, here amongst the Celts?’
‘It is what she wanted,’ said Rose, ‘She reckons that the order of Vesta would be far more appropriate here than in any city. After all, do not even these simple people have hearths and families? 'Vesta judges not by material things but by the goodness in peoples hearts.’
‘We cannot build a Temple here,’ said Dragus, ‘It would draw the attention of the Romans and there would be too many questions. Especially while Nero lives.’
‘That is why we must build it in here,’ said Rose, looking around. ‘Right here in this cave. No one needs know except those who are devoted. All we need is enough room to establish a central hearth and space for those called to service to lay their heads. Do you think we can do that, Dragus?’
Dragus stared long and hard at the beautiful ex slave before looking around the gloomy space.
‘I have been told there is a second cavern behind this,’ said Dragus. ‘It has not been used for generations and is filled with rubble but if I can clear that, perhaps there will be enough room.’
Rose took his hands and kissed him gently.
‘Thank you, Dragus,’ she said, ‘Now, I have to leave you for a while. I need to pay my respects to her earthly remains and prepare her body for burial. You go and speak to the chief and see if it is okay that we stay here.’
‘Leave it to me,’ said Dragus and returned the kiss, ‘Henceforth my life will be devoted to you, the child and the Goddess.’
‘What about the memory of Rubria?’ asked Rose, in mild surprise.
‘As far as I am concerned,’ said Dragus, ‘There is no difference. In my eyes, Rubria embodied the very essence of Vesta herself. She was the Goddess.’
Dragus didn’t return to the cave and Rose spent a lonely sleepless night on his furs. Finally she must have fallen asleep for the sound of Dragus’s voice in the distance dragged her back to consciousness.
‘Rose,’ called Dragus’s voice, ‘Wake yourself. There is work to be done.’
Rose stood up, and, wrapping one of the furs around her shivering naked body, walked sleepily to the cave entrance. She squinted against the sunrise before looking down at Dragus on the clearing below.
‘About time,’ called Dragus, ‘The day is almost done.’
‘The day has just started,’ contradicted Rose. ‘Who are these people?’ She indicated the hundred strong crowd behind the ex-Centurion.
‘These,’ said Dragus, ‘Are our workforce, Rose. These are the people to build the shrine to Vesta.’
‘The chief has agreed it?’
‘Absolutely. He has seen the holiness in the eyes of the child and adopted Vesta as one of his own gods. He has given us fifty slaves for labour, Rose, the rest are volunteers. Stone workers for statues, miners to enlarge the cavern and foresters to provide the supports. He has even decreed that every villager will provide tribute of food to the Temple. I know it is not the Temple she craved Rose, but until the time of Nero is over, I will make this cave a tribute to the Goddess and Rubria herself. And, in years to come, when Nero is rotting in Hades, we will build that Temple, Rose. We will clear a hill of trees and build a Temple in the sunshine that Vesta herself would be proud of.’
Rose gasped in astonishment.
‘Is this really true’? she asked.
‘It is,’ said Dragus, ‘And the task will be led by Reynard himself. During all that time with Rubria, he became converted to the worship of Vesta.’
Rose looked down at the crowd, unable to quite take it all in.
‘Well,’ shouted Dragus, ‘Do we start or shall I send them all back to the village.’
Rose wiped the tears from her eyes and her face broke into a wide smile.
‘You send them back, Roman, and you will be doing all the work yourself. What are you waiting for?’
Dragus returned her smile and gave the signal. The huge workforce flowed past him and up the slope. For a few moments the Centurion and the slave stared at each other over the heads of a hundred workers before she had to move to allow them into the cave. The work on Britannia’s first Temple of Vesta had begun.