“Go!”Antonia shrieked after him. “Go, Wulf Ironfist! If you are in pain, I am glad! Now you will know how I felt when you butchered my Quintus! May the sorrow eat your heart out! I will be glad of it!” Bending down, she picked up her robe and slipped it back on. “I wish I could have told you the truth, Wulf Ironfist,” she said softly to herself, “but I could not. Then my father would find out, and I cannot have that.” She laughed. “Still, I have had my revenge upon you, and Cailin Drusus. If no one knows but me, what difference will it make?”
When Anthony Porcius returned from Corinium several weeks later, his daughter was prepared and waiting. They sat together in the mid-autumn air of her garden while Antonia nursed the infant at her breast.
“I was shocked, Father,” she said. “He didn’t want her. He was ready to expose her on the hillside, had I not begged him for the child. All that mattered to him was that Cailin had not given him the son he wanted. These Saxons are cruel people, Father. Fortunately, little Quintus was ready to be weaned, and my milk is rich, so I decided to take the baby and raise her with my son. It almost makes up for having lost my own baby. Poor Cailin!”
“Where is Wulf Ironfist now?” the magistrate asked.
“He has disappeared.” Antonia replied. “No one knows where he has gone. He made no provision for his slaves. He simply left. The land, of course, now belongs to my little Aurora. I call her that because she was born with the dawn, even as her mother died. I sent my majordomo to drive off those Dobunni who had begun to build a hall at the river villa. They said that Cailin had given them the land for a wedding gift, but I told them it was mine by right of inheritance, and that Cailin was dead in childbirth and not here to enforce their supposed rights. They did not give me much difficulty, and are now gone.”
Anthony Porcius nodded. It was all so much to take in, he thought, but one good thing had come of it. Antonia seemed to be her old self again. Taking in the orphaned daughter of Cailin Drusus had obviously been good for her.
“You will stay here with us, Father, won’t you?” Antonia said. “I do need you so very much. I shall not marry again, but will devote my life to my two children. It is, I feel, what the gods desire of me.”
“Perhaps you are right,” he said, reaching out and taking her hand in his. “We will be a happy family, Antonia. I know it in my heart!”
BYZANTIUM
A.D.454–456
Chapter 7
“Ido not believe it!” Phocas Maxima said, surprised. “This cannot be the same girl you purchased in the market this morning, Jovian. That creature was a filthy, sore-ridden horror. This girl is lovely. Her skin is like cream. There isn’t a mark on her, and that hair! The rich auburn color, those marvelous little curls!”
They are one and the same, brother dear,” Jovian Maxima said in smug tones. “You are a true businessman; you have absolutely no imagination, Phocas. The moment I laid eyes upon the girl, I knew she was a treasure. All it took was hot water and soap to clean her up. Not only that, her Latin is flawless, but for a slight provincial accent which can be corrected—although some may find it most charming.” He looked to the slave girl who accompanied his new purchase. “Isis, remove her tunica, please.”
Phocas Maxima stared hard at the girl when she finally stood nude before him. “She’s a bit slender for my taste,” he noted, “but we can fatten her up. I don’t imagine she’s been getting a great deal to eat recently. Her feet looked dreadfully roughened.”
“She’s done a lot of walking, I would imagine,” Jovian replied.
“We can eventually correct it,” his brother said. “Her breasts are very nice; small, but well-formed. Well, I must admit it, you did get us quite a good bargain in this girl. Does she understand what is expected of her, or are we going to have to train her? She is pagan, I hope.”
It was as if she did not exist except as an object, Cailin thought as she listened to the two brothers chattering back and forth about her and her eventual fate. Not that it really mattered. Nothing mattered anymore. It was all so confusing. She didn’t even understand why she was still alive when all she wanted was to be dead; but something inside her would not allow her to die. It made her angry, but there was naught she seemed to be able to do about it.
She thought back over the many days that had passed since she had lain in labor at Antonia’s villa. The last thing she remembered was the cry of a baby as she sank into unconsciousness. When she came vaguely to her senses, she was in a dirty room in a strange house. The woman who brought her food told her she was in Londinium, which amazed Cailin. She had heard of Londinium, but had never thought to see it in her lifetime. As it turned out, she did not see it, for when she asked what she was doing in this place, she was told that the lady Antonia had sold her to Simon, the slave merchant, and that shortly she would be transported to Gaul and beyond.
“But I am no slave!” Cailin protested.
“That is what the lady Antonia said you would say,” the woman replied sourly. “She says you’re real troublesome and have ideas above your station, girl. Why, you even seduced her late husband, and bore his bastard. Well, she’ll have no more of you, wench.”
“Where is my baby?” Cailin demanded.
“The brat died, I’m told,” was the cold reply.
Cailin began to weep hysterically. “I do not believe you!” she protested. Before she knew it, a bitter liquid was being forced down her throat and she was sliding into darkness again.
For days afterward she drifted between reality and nightmare. When she finally was allowed to come to herself again, she was in Gaul, traveling south with a shipment of other slaves down the backbone of the land, toward the Mediterranean Sea. Not long after, one particularly beautiful young woman attempted to escape, for unlike many of the slaves traveling with them, she wore no collar, nor was she chained. She was quickly recaptured, being unfamiliar with the land.
The slave master debated on her punishment. To beat her would mark her fair skin, and that same fair skin was an asset that could bring him a pretty penny for the girl. He elected to make his point by raping her, which he did before the entire party of travelers. “Run again, bitch,” he threatened as he jammed himself into her, “and I’ll give you to my men! Perhaps you’d like that, wench, eh?”
The look of terror on all the women’s faces told the slave master that he would have no more difficulty with any of them. Indeed, after that Cailin went out of her way to make herself invisible. She allowed her hair to go unwashed and uncombed. Her tunica, which was the only garment she possessed, grew more worn with each passing day. She did not dare wash it for fear that it would disintegrate and leave her naked, like some of the other women. She did not expect she would be supplied with other clothing if she lost what she possessed.
When they reached the coast, the slaves were separated, some being put aboard ship for a town called Carthage, while Cailin and the rest were being sent to a place called Constantinople. It was, she later learned by listening to others, the great capital city of the Eastern Empire. The male slaves in her group were chained to the oars of the galley. They would be sold when and if they reached their destination, but in the meantime they would provide the manpower to get there. The women were penned below in barely habitable quarters; a square space with no sleeping accommodations but the floor; a wooden bucket for their needs; little light, and less air.
Each night, the first mate would arrive grinning, and select several of the women, whom he would take away. They returned with the morning, usually laughing, with extra food or water for themselves, which they usually chose not to share. Their own survival was paramount. Cailin instinctively hid herself in the darkest corner when the first mate came. She did not need to be told what the women were doing, or why they were given gifts. She grew thinner with the meager rations supplied her, but somehow remained alive to reach Constantinople.
The morning of their arrival, the slave master came to carefully look over the women. He selected several who appeared more attractive than the others. They were immediately removed. Some of those not chosen tried to plead with the slave master to take them, and they wept when he roughly shoved them away.
“Where have the others gone?” Cailin asked of an older woman.
