Beast of Caledonia (8 page)

* * * * *

Sara stared at Thea in disbelief. “No. It cannot be true.”

“I am afraid it is true, child. Bato himself told me.”

“And he would not let you see Annachie?”

“No, not even a glimpse of him. I told him my mistress could
make trouble for him, but it made no impression. From what I gather, Septimius
has made a wager with a fellow slaver in Dalmatia that his gladiators cannot be
defeated. So he is sending Bato’s fighters there to prove it.”

“How-how long will they be gone?”

“Three months, or so Bato said. Almost autumn here now, but
Dalmatia is warmer, so the weather should not hinder their travel. It will be winter
when they return.”

Three months! She could not hope to hide her pregnancy that
long.

“Oh, Holy Vesta, help me.” Sara whispered as she sank into a
chair in the foyer of her father’s house.

“Does he know you carry his child?”

Sara looked up at her old nurse. “I should have known I
could not keep it a secret from you. You know me too well. No, I did not tell
him. I would not add that worry to his life. He is making plans for us to
escape, but…”

“But he will not be back in time, before your pregnancy is
obvious to everyone.”

Sara simply nodded. Fear had frozen had tongue.

“You must escape on your own. You cannot wait for him to…to
return.”

Sara knew what Thea hesitated to say—
if he returns.

Annachie could die never knowing that he had sired a child.
That thought was quickly followed by another—if she could not find a way to
escape, she and his child would be dead before he returned.

She had never told him the penalty she could pay for
breaking her vow of chastity.
Death by being buried alive.

Chapter Seven

Sara thanked all the gods that she had not been bothered too
badly with sickness in the mornings. At least that had not given away her
condition. Now, however, it was becoming more and more difficult to hide her
growing belly under her gown. She tried to always lean forward so that the
folds of her tunic would not tighten around the bulge, but of course that was
not always possible.

Was she imagining it or was everyone staring at her as she
walked by or knelt in the temple? Several times Sara had noticed Mother Sylvia
watching her, and she had tried to shrink into herself.

Her plan of escape involved leaving from her father’s house.
But before she could make the arrangements, her father had come home from
Cisalpine Gaul.

He came to see her at the temple.

“Are you well, Sara?” he had asked.

She tried to laugh off his concern, but it sounded hollow
even to her own ears. “Of course, Father, why do you ask?”

“You look pale and there are dark circles under your eyes.”

Sara didn’t doubt that, although she had no mirror to
confirm it. She was not sleeping well, plagued as she was with nightmares. Some
nights she would see Annachie bleeding or lying dead in a far-off arena, and
she would awaken with tears staining her cheeks. On other nights she felt the
horror of being buried in a small dark vault underground, knowing that with
each breath she took she lost precious air. She would awake gasping for breath
as cold sweat soaked her sleeping gown.

“I am fine. I am just not sleeping well of late. It must be
the change of seasons.”

She did not tell him about Annachie, of course, and she
prayed he would not find out until the two of them had made their escape. She
considered asking him to help her get out of the city, but quickly dismissed
that idea. He had been away from Rome and had not seen Annachie in the arena,
but as soon as the gladiators returned, her father would know that Annachie had
something to do with her wanting to leave. And if he discovered her pregnancy,
Quintus would then know instantly who the father of her baby was. Sara was sure
that knowledge would only reignite her father’s hatred of Annachie. He might
help her escape to save her life, but he would make sure that Annachie suffered
for what he had done.

She consoled herself with one thought—
Annachie will be here
soon.
Soon, and then everything would be all right.

But she knew it would still be at least another month before
Annachie returned.

“The emperor is sending me away again,” her father said.

“Where to?”

“Not as far this time. Only to Sicilia. To put down an
insurrection. I must admit I feel I am getting too old for this type of
campaign.”

She felt a tinge of regret at the thought of leaving her
father. She would most likely never see him again. He had loved her more than
her mother had, she knew that. Her mother had been disappointed that Sara was
not a boy, Sara knew that too. But if her father had wished for a son, he had
never shown it to Sara. The two of them were as close as a father and daughter
could be, with never a cross word between them…until Annachie came.

“Take care of yourself, Father.” She blinked rapidly to keep
her tears from falling. “I love you. Never forget that.”

He gave her a questioning look, then smiled and kissed her
on the cheek. “I love you, too, Sara. I will see you when I return.”

And then he was gone.

She would leave her father a letter, explaining everything,
begging him to understand and forgive her, and saying she would write again
when they were settled in their new home—wherever that might be.

* * * * *

A week later, Sara snuck out of the Vestal’s chambers for
the last time. With her swollen belly, it was a tight fit, but she finally
managed to squeeze through the small window.

She met Thea in the alleyway behind her father’s home.
“Where are we going?” Sara asked the older woman.

“Letitia, a friend of mine, has agreed to help us. The house
where she works is not far away.” Thea led Sara through a tangle of streets,
down one hill and up the next. She could tell they were heading into a less
affluent section of the city.

Their breaths puffed out in little white clouds as they
hurried along. Sara pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. Her nerves
were on end, already chilling her, and the cold night air only made it worse.
By the time they reached their destination, she was shivering from head to toe.

Letitia, a tall, thin woman of about Thea’s age, met them at
the gate leading into the garden. “Come this way,” she said.

The night was just bright enough that Sara could see a bit
of the house and grounds. They were not as well-tended as her father’s estate.
The trees in the small garden through which they walked were in sore need of
trimming, and the flowering plants wanted watering and replanting.

They followed Letitia to a small building in the far corner
of the yard. Sara noticed that it was not easily seen from the house. “In
here,” Letitia said.

The three of them crammed themselves into the tight space.
Sara tried to move back a little and tripped over something.

“Careful,” Letitia said.

“What is this place?” Sara asked.

“The gardener was sold a month ago, and my master has not
replaced him. This is the tool shed for the garden. You should be safe here, at
least for a time.”

Sara’s gaze took in the extent of the small building. “There
are no windows.”

“No,” replied Letitia, “it is only a shed, after all.”

Sara shuddered. “Please, do not let me run out of lamp oil.
I could not bear it.”

“All right,” Letitia said.

Sara could tell the woman wanted to ask her some questions,
and she would tell her in time, but not now. She turned to her old nursemaid
and began to cry. “Oh, Thea, you were right. You told me to be careful. Now I
have endangered my life and the baby’s.”

“I know, my precious girl, I know.” Thea embraced her and
patted her back, trying to comfort her. “There, there, be easy. I will see that
you get away from here as soon as possible. And I will tell him where you are
going so he can find you. You said that young boy was going to help him
escape.” Sara’s throat was so tight with sorrow and fear that she could only nod.
“You will be together soon, I promise.”

Sara found her voice. “You have never made a promise to me
that you have not kept, Thea. Thank you for making me believe that Annachie and
I being together is possible.”

“There is a small cot along the back wall,” Letitia said,
“and a chamber pot beneath it. When it is safe, you will be able to walk around
a bit outside but it will not be often. I will bring you meals whenever I can
but it might only be once a day.”

Letitia sounded so apologetic that Sara hastened to reassure
her. “That will be fine, thank you. I know you are risking your position and
perhaps your life by harboring me here. Why are you willing to do this?”

Letitia glanced at Thea and said, “We both know how it feels
to lose the man you love. Just once, we would like to see a happy ending.” Then
she smiled, “And if we can tweak the nose of the Empire in doing so, all the
better.” She handed Sara the oil lamp she had carried, and the women left,
closing the door securely behind them.

* * * * *

Sara marked the passage of time by the growth of the baby
inside her. Rarely had she asked Letitia what day it was, for the woman had
little time to do anything but give Sara food, empty her chamber pot, and
replenish the oil lamp. The only things keeping Sara sane were her baby,
thoughts of Annachie, and the lamp.

The oil lamp was her comfort, keeping the dreaded darkness
at bay. At times, when the flame flickered as the fuel burned low, Sara would
remember the darkness of the ancient forest in Caledonia, the grunts of the
boar, and the pain. Oh, gods, the pain. Then the door would open and Letitia
would be there with food and more oil.

Oftentimes Letitia would come late at night, after the rest
of her household had gone to sleep. Occasionally she was able to bring enough
water for Sara to take a sponge bath.

“How can I ever repay your kindness, Letitia?” Sara asked
one night.

Letitia shook her head. “Just have a happy life with your
baby and that man of yours.”

“Thea has not told you who he is?”

“No, and it is best that I not know.”

“Whom did you lose, Letitia?”

The older woman sighed deeply. “Thea and I are from the same
village. I was in love with her brother, and she was married to mine. When the
Romans came one day, our men fought back. The soldiers killed every one of
them. They took all the women and sold us for slaves.”

“Oh, Letitia, I am so very sorry.”

At that moment, the baby gave an especially vigorous kick,
and Sara instinctively placed her hand over her abdomen. Letitia smiled and
bent over to kiss Sara’s belly. “Be well, little one.” Then she faced Sara.
“And you, too, Sara.” She gathered up the bowl from Sara’s last meal. “I must
get back now.”

Before Sara could thank the woman, she was gone…and Sara was
left alone again in the tiny enclosure.

* * * * *

Marilla peeked out from behind the tall hedge bordering the
garden. She watched Letitia close and lock the door of the tool shed across
from where she stood.

What is she hiding in there
?
Or who?

One day, Marilla had seen Letitia gather up the table scraps
and put them in a bowl in the pantry. “What are you doing with that?” Marilla
had asked.

“There is a poor stray dog,” Letitia answered, “that comes
to the back of the garden. I give them to him.”

But Marilla had begun to watch her fellow servant. There was
no dog…unless he was living in the shed.

Then one day, while purchasing some food for the household,
she heard a bit of news that might explain Letitia’s actions. The market was
always a good place to learn the latest gossip.

“How could she have gotten away? Are they not watched day
and night?”

Marilla’s ears perked up at the conversation between the two
women next to her as she examined the fishmonger’s wares.

“Obviously not,” the other woman laughed, then grew serious.
“Do you really think this will bring bad luck on the Empire?”

“I do not know,” the first woman replied. “In my lifetime, a
Vestal has never run away. But the emperor must be worried that it will,
considering the reward being offered.”

Marilla gasped as the pieces fell into place. It must be her,
she thought. Marilla had heard about the Vestal Virgin who disappeared and
about the reward, but had not given it much thought. But if the girl was hiding
in the shed, and Marilla could aid in her capture… Well, with that amount of
money she could buy her way out of slavery and still have enough left for a
small house, and perhaps a servant of her own.

As she was wondering whom she should tell, she spied a group
of soldiers talking in a nearby doorway.

* * * * *

The flame of the lamp sputtered and went out. Cold sweat
broke out on Sara’s forehead. She struggled to breathe in the stuffy air in the
shed. Despite her hunger, her stomach lurched and she vomited the sparse
contents left from her last meal.

How many days ago had that been? Even though she had lost
track of the days, Sara knew Letitia had not come for a long time. What had
happened? Oh, gods, what if Letitia had been sold? No one else in the household
knew that Sara was there. She could starve in here before anyone found her.

This is the fate that awaits me if I am captured.
Sara began to pray to Fortuna, the goddess of good fortune, to help her to
escape this place, to bring Annachie back to her soon, and to watch over them
on their journey.

Just then, she heard the lock on the shed door opening.
Thank
you, blessed Fortuna, for smiling on your daughter.

The door opened. The brightness of the sun blinded Sara for
a moment; she had to shade her eyes with her hand. This is wrong, she thought.
Why would Letitia come in the daytime? Then, when she was able to see again,
Sara felt as if her heart had dropped to her feet. Four soldiers and a woman
she had never seen before stood in the doorway.