Mortuus Virgo (38 page)
Authors: Kevin Ashman
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Dragus awoke late. The sun was already above the horizon and the fire had long since died. For a second he struggled to remember where he was, but as soon as he gathered his senses, he sat up and looked around the temporary camp. Rose was still asleep but there was no sign of Rubria. He jumped up and walked over to the cave entrance. Rubria was stood outside, still wrapped in her cape.
‘Good morning, Priestess,’ he said. Rubria turned and smiled at him.
‘Good morning, Dragus,’ she replied, ‘Did you sleep well?’
Once again the Centurion’s breath was taken away by the depth of her eyes.
‘A little too good, I think,’ he answered, ‘The sun is already on its way across the sky and there is much to do.’
‘There is plenty of time,’ said Rubria, ‘At least we can now focus on one place instead of moving on every few days.’ Rose joined them and they all stared at the cave entrance in silence. Finally Rubria removed her cape and placed it across the bough of a nearby tree.
‘No point in putting it off any longer,’ she said, ‘Give me a hand to remove this fence.’
‘Leave it to me, Priestess,’ said Dragus, removing his own cape, ‘This is man’s work.’ He used his knife to cut the bindings and placed the planks to one side. ‘I can use these to make a door,’ he said, ‘The posts are rotting but will make good firewood.’
When the fence was down the women entered the cave. The limited light revealed a space approximately four times the size of a standard hut. The natural stone ceiling was just out of reach of a tall man and the floor was covered with old stinking straw. Rubria scraped away some of the straw.
‘We are in luck,’ she said, ‘Beneath the filth there is a stone floor. With a bit of sweat and plenty of water, it will scrub clean.’
‘Leave this to me, Miss,’ said Rose, ‘It’s nothing that a bit of hard graft won’t sort out. You wait outside in the fresh air and I will make it a bit more homely.’ She dropped to her knees and started to pick up the filthy straw that littered the floor, but within seconds, was joined by Rubria on her knees, At first Rose protested but the Priestess would have none of it and they cleared the room together, both gagging as they cleared the filth from the cave.
Dragus spent the day cutting small trees to form a rudimentary palisade across the entrance. When the uprights were solid, he intertwined supple ash boughs between them to make a wall. Finally, he and rose collected arms full of bracken to fill the holes in the surprisingly solid barrier. Eventually he turned and walked into the cave to see how they were getting on. The cave had been swept clean and one side had been piled up with bracken for bedding.
‘I am impressed,’ he said, ‘You would never know this was the same place, and the smell has almost gone.’
‘What we need now is a fire,’ said Rubria, ‘I would rather smell of smoke than pig droppings.’
‘I will get some firewood said Dragus.
‘No, we can manage that,’ said Rubria, ‘Why don’t you check out the village and see if you can find any food. We ate the last of ours at midday. Here,’ she said, and gave him a coin.
‘I’m afraid coins are not worth much here,’ said Dragus, ‘And are best kept for the travelling merchants.’
Rubria thought for a moment before taking her silk scarf from around her neck.
‘Will this bring anything?’
‘Perhaps,’ said Dragus, ‘I will see what I can do.’ He left the cave and walked down into the village.
‘Right,’ said Rubria, ‘Lets get a fire started.’
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By the time Dragus returned, they had built a circle of stones in the centre of the cave and a fire sent its smoke upwards to escape through the unseen cracks of the natural ceiling. Rose sat tying bunches of straw into tight knots.
‘Fuel,’ she said, answering his unasked question, ‘Shame to waste all this straw.’
She looked at the bag over his shoulder.
‘You were successful in your task?’
‘I was,’ he said, ‘Though it’s not much, just a loaf, and a chicken.’
‘Bread and meat,’ smiled Rubria, ‘After what we have endured it is a relative feast. Rose, take the pot and bring some water, would you?’ She took the bag from Dragus and started to pluck the chicken.
Rose took the copper pot given to them by the ship’s Captain, and, after filling it at the stream, placed it on the fire to boil. When Rubria had finished preparing the bird, she took Dragus’s knife and cut it into tiny pieces, putting everything except the stomach into the pot. Dragus dug into his pockets and added some herbs and edible shoots he had found along the path on the way back from the village.
‘I’d prefer it spit roasted,’ he said whimsically.
‘Me too,’ said Rubria ‘But we have to be prudent. A roast chicken would last but one meal whereas this stew will keep us fed for several days.’
‘I know,’ smiled Dragus, ‘But a man can dream.’
Rubria laughed aloud and Rose and Dragus looked at her quizzically.
‘What’s so funny?’ asked Dragus.
‘Oh, Centurion,’ she laughed, ‘Have we sunk so low that our dreams consist of nothing more than a roast chicken.’
‘Priestess, the way my belly feels, I would pay an Emperor’s ransom for a slice of beef and die a happy man. However, for tonight, chicken stew will suffice.’ He looked around the cave. ‘There is no privacy here,’ he said, ‘Tomorrow I will build a willow screen, but tonight I will sleep outside.’
‘You will do no such thing,’ smiled Rubria, ‘You will sleep in here with us.’
‘But Priestess,’ said Dragus, ‘Modesty forbids, but fear not, it will not be the first time I have slept under the stars.’
‘You worry needlessly, Dragus,’ said Rubria, ‘I fear the temperatures dictate we will once more be sleeping fully clothed this evening, our modesty is ensured. Tomorrow we will concern ourselves with making this hovel into a palace, but in the meantime, let us spend one more night together at the fire, a group of fellow travellers on a great adventure.’
Rose glanced at Dragus and smiled. The Priestess’s naivety often made her laugh. An hour later, Dragus sat with his back against one wall of the cave, his belly full for the first time in ages. The cave danced with the light from the flickering fire. Rubria was fast asleep, the effort of the day having caught up with her. Rose walked over and sat besides him.
‘A long day,’ she said eventually.
‘It was,’ said Dragus.
‘Do you think we will be okay?’ she asked, turning her head to look at him.
‘I think so, Rose,’ he said, ‘It’s not going to be easy, but in the circumstances, it’s the best we can do.’
She leaned her head on his shoulder and stared into the fire.
‘I hope so,’ she said, ‘For her sake. Not only is she the holiest person I have ever met, but her innocence is almost childlike.’
‘She will be fine,’ said Dragus, ‘We will make sure she is. She just needs a lot of attention.’
Rose lifted his arm and placed it around her own shoulders.
‘She’s not the only one,’ she said quietly and snuggled in to his side, closing her eyes as the exhaustion of the day swept over her.
Dragus stared down at the girl in his embrace, confused at his feelings. During all these months he had devoted his time and attention towards the Priestess, and though he and Rose had grown close, he had only thought of her as Rubria’s slave. Yet, here he was, holding her sleeping form in his arms, and for the first time realised how pretty a girl she actually was.
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England 2010
Bernice slowly placed the key in the lock of the hall door, before glancing up and down the passage one last time. The turning of the latch sounded horribly loud in the silence, and she hesitated before easing it ajar just enough to slip through. The hall was lit by discreetly placed candles and she quickly scanned the room to confirm that it was indeed empty. At this time of night, everyone would be asleep and she knew she had a few hours before first bell to find out where the Senior Sisters had disappeared to a few days earlier. She locked the door behind her and paused before starting her search for any hidden doorway.
The long embroidered tapestries hanging on either side of the hall were the obvious location and she lifted each in turn searching for the door that had to be there. When these yielded no results, she checked the bare walls between them for any sign of hidden doorway yet all the joints were solid. Finally, she turned her attention to the floor, lifting the rugs at the far end to find any trapdoors or hidden stairways. At last she sat down on one of the benches, tired and frustrated. This made no sense. Perhaps the door had not been locked from the inside on the night of the Mother Superiors death, but had just been stuck. That had to be it she realised, and breathing a deep sigh she stood up to return to her cell but was just about to insert the key into the lock when she heard a noise from outside.
She stood, frozen in fear as the footsteps drew closer, hoping they would pass by, but her fear turned to horror when the person stopped outside the door. Her worst fears were realised as the sound of jangling keys revealed the persons intention of entering the hall.
She stepped back in panic, and span around, searching for somewhere to hide. There was only one option and she ducked behind the nearest tapestry, hoping that whoever it was did not see the giveaway bulge in its centre.
The tapestry lay heavy against her, and she prayed that the dusty smell of age did not make her sneeze. She heard the hall doors open, and the sound of keys locking it again, before the unseen person hurried down the length of the hall, not noticing the displaced tapestry besides the door.
Bernice lifted the tapestry slightly from her face and watched the back of the grey clad figure as she made their way towards the far end of the hall. Bernice recognised the shape of Sister Agnes as she knelt before the image of the Holy Mother for a few moments in prayer before making the sign of the cross and standing up again, but instead of turning around and returning up the hall, the Senior Sister stepped forward towards the carving.
Bernice watched in confusion as the Nun opened her arms as if embracing the image and her mouth dropped opened in astonishment as the whole carving slid sideways in front of her. She watched Sister Agnes disappear into the passage beyond and saw the door slide effortlessly back into place of its own accord.
When the room had again fallen silent Bernice left the security of the tapestry and approached the archway containing the image of the Holy Mother. She placed her ear against the wood and listened intently but could hear nothing. She ran her hands over the carving looking for some sort of lever to open the door, remembering the adventure books she had read as a young girl but again, could find nothing. Finally, realising she had ridden her luck a little too much, left the hall and locked the doors behind her. If nothing else, at least she knew her suspicions were well founded and there was something unhealthily secret about the whole order. A few minutes later she entered one of the upper corridors and made her way to her own cell at the end of the row, anticipating the familiar security of the space she had known as home for the past twenty years. She closed the door behind her but before she could turn around into the familiar surroundings, a large male hand clamped over her mouth, choking off the terrified scream that was erupting from deep within her.
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Murray sat in the corner of the room, staring up at the unseen ceiling. The room was pitch black and stank of dampness and stale air. He had seen no-one since being brought in at gunpoint many hours earlier and had spent the first thirty minutes banging on the door and shouting abuse at his captors. Finally, realising there was nobody there; he retreated into a corner and waited for someone to come, afraid to even contemplate the horrible possibility that they might not.
Eventually after what seemed like a lifetime, the sound of distant footsteps echoed down the unseen corridor. An overhead lamp switched on, and he turned his head away from the unexpected light. The door swung open and two men entered the room, setting up a small table with two chairs situated opposite each other. A third man came in and sat on one of the chairs, while the other two stood either side of the door.
Murray stayed in the corner, staring at the man at the table, waiting for someone to speak.
Eventually, the man at the table spoke, nodding towards the empty chair.
‘Sit,’ he said, simply.
‘I’m okay here, thank you very much,’ said Murray.
The man glanced at one of the guards and gave a slight nod of his head. Both men marched over to Murray and before he could do anything to defend himself, one of them punched him on the side of the head, sending him sprawling across the floor.
‘
What the fuck?’
shouted Murray, but before he could say anything else, they dragged him to his feet and the bald guy’s mate sent a punch deep into his stomach, and as he doubled up in pain, followed it up with a knee to the face.
Murray’s nose shattered and he slid down the wall in pain and shock. The two men returned to their positions by the door as the man by the table lit a cigarette, as if in boredom. He blew out a lungful of smoke before repeating his earlier instruction.