‘I don’t know,’ said Dragus, ‘But I’ll think of something. I have to.’
Dragus sat nervously in front of Blackthorn in the Chieftain’s hut. He had been invited to share a skin of wine with the leader, and they passed it around the circle of elders sat around the fire. He looked across the flames to stare at the man who held the fates of all three fugitives in his hands.
Blackthorn took a last swig from the skin and belched before staring into Dragus’s eyes.
‘So, Roman,’ he said, ‘The woman’s time is nearly here.’
‘It is,’ said Dragus, ‘The women of the tribe are with her. The child will be with us before the sun sets tomorrow.’
‘Good,’ said the Chieftain, ‘My son has been patient long enough. He will take her as his bride as soon as she has seen her first blood after the birth.’
‘Blackthorn,’ said Dragus, ‘You have indeed been very patient and we are grateful for your protection and hospitality, but I am not sure about the joining of your son and Rubria.’
‘Your worries are not my concern,’ said Blackthorn, ‘The union will go ahead as discussed.’
‘But she is a Roman Priestess,’ said Dragus, ‘A Vestal Virgin who knows nothing about such things.’
‘She will learn our ways,’ said Blackthorn, ‘And bear me many grandsons. What better fate could a woman have than to marry the son of a Chieftain?’
Dragus’s head bowed and he paused before speaking again.
‘There is more,’ he said, ‘Something you should know.’
Blackthorn waited for him to continue.
‘I think I know the child’s father.’
Blackthorn’s eyes raised in surprise.
‘You said she had lain with no man.’
‘And she hasn’t, at least not voluntarily, answered Dragus, ‘But she was raped and would not name the rapist because of who he is.’
‘Do you want me to kill this man?’ asked Blackthorn.
Dragus hid a smile.
‘That is a very appealing thought,’ said Dragus, ‘But I fear he is out of the reach of even your mighty sword. It is none other than Nero himself.’
‘The Roman king?’ laughed Blackthorn, ‘If this is so, then she was not raped. A king can take any woman he wants.’
‘Emperor,’ corrected Dragus, ‘And in our lands, rape is rape. We cannot do anything about it but there may be repercussions.’
‘Explain.’
‘The women are saying the child will be a girl. If this is true, then there may not be a problem, but if it is a boy, he will be the son of a Roman Emperor, and heir to the Empire. If this news gets out, the Romans will send an army to retrieve him, or kill him depending on who gives the order.’
‘Why should this concern me?’
‘They will take the boy and his mother away. You will be seen as an accomplice whatever the outcome and they will wipe your tribe out. Every man, woman and child will die or be sold into slavery. You and your family will be taken to Rome and paraded through the streets as a common criminal before being strangled in the Forum in front of the Senate.’
‘You do not know this.’
‘Trust me, I am Roman and know how it works.’
‘Then where does this leave us, Roman?’ asked Blackthorn, ‘I will not see my people die for the sake of one child.’
‘There is no need,’ said Dragus. ‘Let the woman recover and allow us to be on our way. No one need ever know we were here and you can go about your business as before.’
‘And my son?’
‘He has the choice of a hundred women. His attention will soon settle elsewhere.’
‘I have another way,’ said Blackthorn, ‘I could just kill you all and feed you to the pigs. No one would ever know of your time here.’
‘You could,’ said Dragus, ‘But what man would risk the wrath of a Goddess as powerful as Vesta. Kill one of her Priestesses and her fury would descend upon your people like the worst storm you have ever seen.’
‘Do you threaten me, Roman?’
‘No great chief, I only seek what is best for all of us.’
Blackthorn sat back in silence, staring at the foreigner. He was afraid of nothing, apart from the gods, but as a child he had also seen the power of the Romans, slaughtering everyone before them during their invasion. He knew that Dragus was telling the truth. Eventually he spoke again.
‘Tomorrow, when the child is born, we will decide,’ he said, ‘But tonight we will drink. He threw the wine skin over to Dragus. ‘Drink deep, Roman, there are plenty more skins to drain before the sun rises.’
Dragus unplugged the stopper with his teeth and lifted the neck up to his mouth. He had played the game, the die was cast. Their fates were now in the hands of the gods, and a certain unborn baby.
— -
The following morning saw the entire village gathered in silence around the cave entrance. Word had been sent that the birth was imminent and a hung-over Dragus dragged himself from the quilt of furs where he had fallen several hours earlier. He left the hut and dipped his head in a horse trough to bring himself around. There was no sign of the Chief but he followed the crowd up to the cave and made his way to the front of the throng. Blackthorn and his son were already there, neither showing any sign of the heavy drinking session.
‘You must have the head of an ox,’ said Dragus.
‘And you, a stomach of a child,’ answered Blackthorn.
‘It seems I underestimated the strength of your ale.’
A commotion at the cave drew their attention. An old woman came out and talked in hushed whispers to the smaller group. Two of the women rushed into the cave while another came quickly down the slope to talk to the chief, talking in a dialect Dragus couldn’t understand. When she had finished, the chief dismissed her and she made her way quickly back up to the cave.
‘What’s the problem?’ asked Dragus, ‘Is the child okay?’
‘Things do not go as expected,’ said the chieftain.
Dragus stepped forward to make his way up to the cave, but the grip of the Chieftain on his arm prevented him.
‘This business is not for men,’ he said. ‘The women are with her. Leave it to them.’
‘She may need me,’ said Dragus.
‘She has her slave and her Goddess,’ said Blackthorn, ‘With their help she will be okay.’
Inside the cave, Rose stood to one side of the cave, waiting for the midwives to finish their work. Rubria had already given birth, relatively easily, and the sound of the baby crying was a welcome relief to all present, however, now the attention of the old women was now totally focussed on the mother. Gradually, one by one they left the Priestesses side until eventually only one was left. She looked around and caught Rose’s eye, shaking her head slightly to confirm Rose’s worst fears. She beckoned her over to the pile of furs where Rubria lay. Rose waked forward, her heart sinking and the old woman moved out of the way, rubbing the ex slave’s shoulder in sympathy as they exchanged places at the bedside. Rose fell to her knees alongside Rubria, tears flowing like rivers down her face.
‘Mistress,’ she whispered, picking up one of Rubria’s hands.
The Priestess opened her eyes and tried to focus on the slave who had become her friend.
‘Rose?’ she whispered.
‘Yes, mistress, said Rose, ‘I am here.’
‘Is the child okay, Rose?’
‘Yes, Miss, a beautiful baby girl. I will bring her to you.’
‘Wait,’ said Rubria, ‘There are things that must be said.’
