In Book 2 of the Celtic Fervour Series Gaius Livanus Valerius takes Ineda of Marske prisoner and makes her his personal slave.
It isn't a popular choice for him to make, and he becomes very out of favour within his garrison fort at Viroconium Cornoviorum, but he has his reasons for not allowing Ineda her freedom.
Here's an excerpt from Chapter Four:
It was not long before circumstances improved more to
Ineda’s liking. Escape was still as elusive, but her purpose changed when Tribune
Valerius took her with him when he was posted to the encampment at Deva. Though
the Cornovii had largely been subdued for some time, the rebuilding and
improvements to the earlier abandoned wooden fortress had been delayed till
shortly before their arrival. The troops needed to build it had been deployed
elsewhere for many seasons, but the present Governor Frontinus had decided the
time had come to release sufficient soldiers from other legions to build the
new structure.
Having seen
a little of the assembly of the fort at Nidd, and having lived for so long at Viroconium
Cornoviorum, Ineda saw many similarities, though the Deva garrison fortress was
much larger. Situated on a headland, the river meandered below. It was also
close to a natural harbour on the western coast and would dominate any sea
traffic in and out of the area. The position was ideal for containing the
Brigantes, the Setantii and the Carvetii to the north of it, and effectively
kept the local tribes to the south of it under control, with little unseen
intermixing of the tribes.
Gaius. She
now allowed herself to think of him as Gaius and even named him so as well when
directly speaking to him. His persistence that she should do so had eventually
wore down her reticence.
A small
measure of enjoyment was had as she learned more and more about Gaius’ world,
her natural curiosity fed. She became a woman of two parts as well as one who
wore two bratts. Day after day she was drawn more and more in to the life of a
Roman, her former Celtic identity pushed into abeyance. It was only when some
important insurgence happened that her Celtic loyalties came to the fore.
“You have the white puss and
swelling still under the wound, Gaius, and for full healing it must be drawn
out. My grandmother would have made a paste of plantain and some other herbs,
but I have none of these. Would anyone have such things at Deva? Already in a
paste or the fresh growth?”
Gaius had just returned from a short
journey to Cambodunum, to the site of a permanent encampment. Governor Frontinus
had marked out the area as an excellent site for a small fort and Gaius had
started to send supplies. Unfortunately for him – though something which
delighted Ineda – the supply wagons were being intercepted by local Celtic
warriors and small skirmishes were frequent. The convoy he had personally
accompanied had been attacked, but since the guard was heavy enough the Celtic
assailants had fled after only a short foray.
“How should I know such a thing,
Ineda? My dealings at present are about iron and copper supplies, not plantain,
whatever that is!” Gaius was bitingly terse, obviously annoyed that the pain
was sufficient to bother him, all evident in the grimace he darted her way.
Brushing her aside he clutched at the goblet of wine.
Quelling anger at his offhand
attitude, she bit her tongue to keep from being just as rude. A deep breath
taken, she looked away from his wincing features and summoned control of her
emotions. “You use herbs when you give prayers to your goddess Etain.”
Only after drinking deeply from the
cup did Gaius deign to answer, his gaze confrontational. His teeth crunched
together, his lips pursed against the pain. “That is different from me knowing
where they come from!” Quarrelling with him was not uncommon, but this incident
was exacerbated even more by his hurting. “Why ask me? How should I know such
things? Go from my sight if you cannot help me.”
Gaius noticed the fleeting hurt she
was unable to hide from her expression and glared at her all the more. Having
come to dislike him less, being treated badly hurt her ambivalent feelings.
“Ask Rubrius! He should know these
things.”
She had an idea who Rubrius was, was
certain he was one of the superior surgeons, and was also fairly certain the
surgeon would not spend time with her. But she did know one of his militis, a
man friendly with one of Gaius’ clerks.
Stomping off in high dudgeon over
Gaius’ harsh behaviour, her temper was still roiling when she reached Rubrius’
quarters and requested to speak to his militis. “I am told that Rubrius used the services of a healing woman
to acquire herbs for some of his unguents? Is this true?” That she was rude to
the man did not trouble her, though it would have in her more temperate
moments.
“Orchil?”
“I do not know her name! Tribune
Valerius needs treatment for his wound. Where will I find this woman?”
“Does he need our immediate
assistance?” The man looked bothered. “We have many wounded soldiers to deal
with right now, but I will ask Rubrius to tend to the tribune.”
She began to feel harassed when the militis
glared, though her words were measured with care. “The wound needs treated, but
given the proper unguent I have the skills to deal with it. All I need are the
correct essentials to make the paste. If the woman has plantain I can do what
is necessary.”
Though the man looked sceptical, he
told her where to locate the woman named Orchil.
Ineda felt the blood surge around
her body. Orchil lived outside the walls of the fortress! Was this her chance
to escape after being so long a prisoner behind the walls? Excitement mounted,
her thoughts whirling.
“What is this I hear? I am extremely
busy!”
Ineda roused quickly from her
momentary distraction. The man striding towards her looked to be important and
yet full of bluster as his words rattled on.
“I am Rubrius and you are Tribune
Valerius’ whore. I heard you say you wish to talk with Orchil, the herbs woman?
And you say you can deal with the tribune’s wound yourself?” His disdain
dripped from every word, his sneer accompanied by a lascivious glare.
“With plantain I can. I have the
other items I need to make a paste to draw out the white puss that is under the
skin.” When Rubrius continued to stare at her without saying more, she named a
few other herbs she knew were available to her.
“Is that all that ails the tribune?
I thought him to be much needier of my expert services. What you name should
work well enough.” Dismissing her, Rubrius turned and bawled at one of his
underlings. “Fetch a guard and personally escort this slave to Orchil. See that
she returns safely to the fortress. The tribune would be most upset if his
personal woman ran off. He would not wish to be the butt of any ribald jokes
when evening comes, though I dare say many of the soldiers within would make
haste to recapture her. There are many of us who have to do without the
services of a private whore.”
Before striding off, the man’s chin
moved right down to her face. “Your beauty causes much resentment at this
fortress!”
Something of her grandmother, Meaghan’s,
words of so long ago came back to her as she was marched to the dwelling of the
old healer. Though she had no recollection of the actual phrase, she remembered
Meaghan commenting that her healing skills would be needed after a long time of
no use. She also remembered Meaghan saying something about always looking
forward to the good and not to dwell on the bad. It was not the first time she
had been referred to as the tribune’s whore, and most likely not the last but
it hurt – badly.
“Aye! I have what you need.” The old
woman cackled as she went about collecting the items Ineda requested. “So, the tribune
is not immune to a Celtic sword? Sometimes our Celtic brothers strike back
successfully. I would that more of them were successful against this Roman scum
that floods our land!”
Stunned that Orchil would be so
openly ridiculing, Ineda found herself lost for words. Gaius could have been
killed, but she also rejoiced that there was still some resistance to Roman
domination of Celtic territory. She was amazed that the old woman voiced her
opinions so loudly but at least the soldiers who accompanied her were outside
the roundhouse.
Orchil grumbled ominously as she
handed over the herbs. “Your whoredom status is known to all, Ineda of the
Brigantes, but that need not mean you should be termed Roman. Those who refuse
to accept the tyranny of Rome
need the support of every Celtic heart. If your tribune had been killed what
would you do then?”
Ineda had no idea what to answer.
Her confusion was total. Her mumbled words of thanks given she left quickly, in
her agitation bumping against the wooden door post.
“Come back when you have something useful
to tell me so that I can pass it along, Ineda of the Brigantes! You are still
of the Celtic people and always will be. Remember that.” Orchil’s words rang
out as Ineda sped away.
While returning to Gaius she
deliberately put the old woman’s comments from her thoughts, thoughts that
whirled her whole journey back. Orchil could not possibly mean what she was
thinking? Maybe was even secretly hoping? Had the herbs woman indicated she
could pass messages along to insurgent Brigantes? Orchil had also mentioned
something troubling as well. What would be her fate if Gaius died? It seemed
the dislike she felt from many of the soldiers that she encountered may not be
because she was a Brigante slave, but more because Gaius had stirred resentment
in keeping her as his personal woman instead of sharing her like a camp
prostitute.
During her absence Gaius had drunk
more wine, the almost empty flagon a sure sign something was amiss. Soft snores
greeted her when she tried to waken him but he slept on. The salve was fully
ready by the time he stirred.
“What is that mixture?” He winced in
pain as he sat up, his arm jarring against the cot with his sluggish movements.
“The unguent you need to draw out
the white matter that lies beneath the skin. This paste will draw it out and
clean the wound from beneath the skin.”
Gaius seemed sceptical, though
clearly interested in her movements as she used her stone pestle to transfer
her mix from the mortar to a small pot. “How do you know this will work?”
Encouraged by his tone she poured
clean water from a jug into a small basin and then dipped in her wiping cloth.
“My grandmother was the healer of our village. She taught me many things about
tending ailments.”
“We have skilled surgeons here at Deva
who treat the wounds of our casualties.”
Though his words could have been a
rejection of her skills his tone said otherwise. It held a question, maybe a
doubt about her expertise, yet also held a trust in her.
“Aye! I know this. And they are very
busy with other wounds just now, but if you prefer to wait for Rubrius, that is
your choice.” Though she would never divulge what had happened, she was not
confident the surgeon would even look at Gaius’ wound after what the man had
said to her.
Gaius holding out his wound told her
his intentions. The glint in his gaze was trusting… and even… affectionate.
“I trust you to heal me, Ineda. You
have had many opportunities over many long moons now to have poisoned me, yet
you have not.”
She did not know what to think as
she cleaned the wound. Uncertainty flooded her since she no longer knew where
her loyalties lay. Gaius was her lover, and to all effects her hearth husband,
even if no hand-fasting had occurred. But he was Roman.
He was also the father of the babe
in her womb that was soon to be born, though he had no knowledge of that as
yet.
She resolved to put Orchil’s taunts
from her thoughts.
***
After Whorl: Donning Double Cloaks is available to pre-order in paperback NOW! http://www.amazon.co.uk/After-Whorl-Donning-Double-Cloaks/dp/1909841579/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1394826148&sr=8-1&keywords=after+whorl+donning+double+cloaks
Slainthe!
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you for reading my blog. Please pop your thoughts about this post in the comment box. :-)