‘For what?’
‘For not doing as Papa asked. I haven’t looked after you.’
He was so serious, standing there with a genuine look of shame, that Fulmina clutched him to her, biting back the stinging sensation in her eyes. ‘Oh, get on with you, Aquila. I wouldn’t have you any other way.’
‘I promise to be here more often, Mama. I would stay now but I have to take the dog back to Gadoric.’
‘I know, son. And so you shall. Just as soon as you put this on.’
She held out a leather amulet. It was deep brown, rubbed with beeswax to make it shine and Fulmina had embroidered it with the outline of an eagle, wings outstretched. More than that she had managed to raise the bird so that it stood out from the background, giving it a sense of real movement. The thongs to bind the amulet were threaded through the eyes, and she slipped it onto his arm, pulling them tight and lacing them quickly.
‘Do you like it?’ she asked.
‘It’s wonderful,’ he replied enthusiastically, fingering the eagle.
‘Now sit down for a moment, while I tell you something.’ He glanced anxiously at the waiting dog, then composing himself, he looked back at Fulmina. ‘There is something of value in this amulet, something that belongs to you.’ Aquila started to speak, to ask what it contained, but she put her fingers of one hand over his lips and clutched the other tightly. ‘No. Just listen. When you are old enough to fear no man, you must unpick the stitching around the bird. There you will find another eagle, a valuable one. It is your birthright. The chain to hold it is sown into the leather that laces the amulet to your arm. You must guard it with your life.’
The boy fingered the stiff leather. Fulmina could see that he was about to start asking a host of questions. ‘Say nothing! But swear to me, by all the gods, that you will do as I ask.’
The silence lasted for what seemed an age. He looked into her eyes and his young face registered a look of surprise, as if he was seeing the ravages of pain for the first time.
‘Why now?’
‘You have brought me more joy that I can say yet now I have to tell you that I am not your mama, just as Clodius is not your real father.’ The boy dropped his head, trying to hide his emotions. He kept it there as Fulmina continued. ‘I wanted you to become a man before telling you this, but I shall not have the time.’
The sun rose high in the sky as she spoke, telling the boy how Clodius had found him; of the valuable token he now wore on his arm, and of their fruitless search for his true parents. All the time he looked at the ground, with only an occasional squeeze on her hand to indicate the pain he was feeling.
She touched the eagle gently. ‘All this time, I’ve kept this, though it could have eased our lives no end. Clodius wanted to sell it and buy another farm.’ His voice was hoarse. She did not quite hear what he asked but she knew the nature of the question. ‘At first I wanted to keep it so that we could claim our reward for raising you. Besides, I wouldn’t have trusted Clodius to get a proper price for it. Even if he did, I wonder how much of the value would have been left when he got home. If we’d had enough to buy another farm he’d have drunk that away in no time.’
‘He wouldn’t have had to go away.’
‘It was the dreams, really, and once Drisia had done with her spitting, and cast her bones, I knew it was true, since she saw your future as I did.’
For the first time in an age the boy looked up. He was hurt, that was clear from his expression. But he had not shed a single tear.
‘It happened more than once, Aquila. You would appear in my dreams, that eagle on your neck, a grown man, but no farmer toiling in the fields. Crowds cheered you, and you wore white robes tinged with purple and a laurel wreath around your ears. All my dreams spoke of greatness, of a destiny for you, in which you will take your rightful place in the world. That is really why I kept the charm. It’s part of your path to that destiny. By raising you, Clodius and I have played our part.’
She squeezed his hand again, but this time he spoke. ‘You’re going to die?’
‘Yes.’
‘How soon?’
She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. ‘That’s of no account, Aquila. What matters is this. You know that there’s a path to follow. Drisia and I have seen that it won’t be an easy one. You face death many times.’ She rubbed the leather amulet again. ‘But I want you to swear never to part with this. I can’t tell you how, but this alone will propel you to glory. In the bottom of the chest you’ll find some coins, not much, but enough perhaps to get you to your papa.’ Her face clouded at the mention of her husband. ‘If he tries to persuade you to sell it, tell him to go jump in the latrine.’
The head was down again, the voice forlorn. ‘He’s not really my papa.’
‘That won’t stop him,’ she snapped. Then her voice softened. ‘He’s not a bad man, Aquila, just a weak one. Take care of him, and if you do have some fortune, ease his old age. Now come over here with me and swear.’
She led the boy by his hand to the tiny altar stuck in the corner of the hut. Fulmina had decorated it with meat, fruit and flowers, each a votive offering to the deities that she worshipped. Farmers’ gods, since she had held to the older beliefs all her life, the religion of the land from which life came. She made incantations to Luna, to Conditor, the God of the Harvest, Volturnus the God of the River and Robigo, Goddess of the Fields, using words that she had learnt at her own mother’s knee.
‘We need no priests, Aquila. No visit to the temple, with a fee for the augurs and a chicken sacrificed that they’ll eat for dinner. No offering to the gods that rich folk worship, either. These are our gods. The sun that brings life and the fruits of that life, the moon that tells us of the change of season. Swear by these gods, the ones we raised you by, that you will abide by my wishes, that you will keep that charm safe and never sell it.’
The boy touched each of the offerings in turn then put his hand on the turf of the altar. In his mind he recalled Gadoric’s voice, talking of the deities that his tribe worshipped. They were the same kind of deities celebrated at this turf altar, even if they had different names. Fulmina, having finished her prayers, nudged him. His voice was steady as he spoke.
‘I swear.’
She fought back the pain in her belly once more, with greater ease somehow, no longer caring. She had done with her task. ‘Now take the dog and go see your barbarian.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
There was an unnatural stillness to the woods, a lack of sound that made the hairs on Aquila’s neck twitch and the dog sensed it as well, the usual ritual of sniffing, then marking every tenth tree forgotten. Instead he would run a bit ahead, stop and test the wind, before moving on again. They left the woods and crossed the open field towards the pens. The sheep were still there but he could see no sign of Gadoric. Minca yelped suddenly and raced for the tiny lean-to hut that, set hard against a wall of rock, served the shepherd as home. Aquila put aside the knot of fear he felt and ran after the dog. The rope-hinged door had been torn off. What few possessions Gadoric had owned were scattered around the place and his cot, fashioned from rough-hewn saplings, was broken. The pole on which he hung his gutted birds and small game was empty and the long shepherd’s staff lay on the floor, the white wood of the sword cuts it had sustained stark and frightening. The dog was whining loudly, sniffing at the floor. Aquila bent down and rubbed his fingers over the hard packed earth. The blood was still wet so whatever had occurred in the hut had happened very recently.
Minca whined again, looking pleadingly at Aquila and the boy covered his eyes to fight back the unaccustomed tears, for his heart was as heavy as a stone. How much loss could he take in one day? First Fulmina and the story of his birth, worse still the words backed up by the lined and weary face that told him of her impending death. Now the shepherd, who had come to occupy the central position in his life; he would not have known how to say what Gadoric had become to him, a surrogate father, but that was what had happened. The flaxen-haired giant had refined his crude skills and taught him to hunt, snare and trap, had shown him which bait to use and how to fish, the proper way to catch a snake without being bitten plus myriad other ways to survive in the woods. Gadoric had set up targets and made him practice at throwing his spear until the boy could be sure to hit a wild boar in the right spot, even if both he, and his quarry, were running flat out. They had had sessions with wooden swords that went on till Aquila’s arm ached, but he could thrust, cut and parry enough to occasionally force
