The Silver Eagle

‘Take her up to the courtyard,’ Secundus ordered. ‘Make it quick.’

Without a chance to explain herself further, Fabiola was bundled towards the passageway to the stairs.

By entering the Mithraeum, she had unknowingly crossed an invisible line. Mithras had shown her where Romulus might be, but now she was going to die. As her brother would, if he was present at the battle she had seen. If the vision was real at all, Fabiola thought bitterly. What had the strange-tasting liquid done to her mind?

Curious to know before the end, she threw a question at Secundus. ‘What’s in the phial?’

The veterans holding her faltered.

‘Wait!’ snapped Secundus. His face had gone pinched. ‘You drank from this?’ he said slowly, lifting the blue glass from the altar top.

She nodded.

Seeing that it was empty, Secundus’ nostrils flared with fury.

Swords slid from scabbards at the new outrage, but he raised a hand to stop any hasty action. ‘Did you see anything?’ he asked quietly.

Fabiola tensed, aware that everything hinged upon her answer. Faced with death, she wanted life.

‘Answer me,’ muttered Secundus, ‘or, by Mithras, I will slay you here and now.’

Fabiola closed her eyes, asking the warrior god for his help. The truth, she thought. Tell the truth. ‘I became a raven,’ she said loudly, thinking that the men listening would laugh. ‘Flying high over a strange land.’

Disbelieving gasps met her comment. She heard the word ‘Corax’ whispered repeatedly.

‘You’re sure?’ Secundus barked. ‘A raven?’

Fabiola stared into his eyes. ‘I am.’

He looked confused.

‘How can this be?’ demanded one veteran.

‘A woman as a sacred bird?’ cried another.

The chamber resounded with questions.

Secundus raised his arms for quiet. Remarkably, his men obeyed. ‘Tell me everything you saw,’ he said to Fabiola. ‘Do not leave out a single detail.’

Taking a deep breath, she began.

No one spoke as Fabiola recounted her vision. When she had finished, there was a stunned silence.

Secundus moved to stand before the three altars and the depiction of the tauroctony. Kneeling, he bent his head.

No one spoke, but the grip on Fabiola’s arms relaxed slightly. A sidelong glance at the veterans holding her revealed fear, and awe, in their expressions. She did not know what to think. If they believed in her vision, did that mean it could be relied upon?

After a few moments, Secundus bowed from the waist and got to his feet.

All his men tensed, eager to hear if the god had spoken.

‘She is not to be harmed,’ Secundus said, his eyes moving steadily around the room. ‘Anyone who drinks the homa and then dreams a raven is favoured by Mithras.’

The faces around Fabiola registered shock, disbelief and anger.

‘Even a woman?’ said the guard who had admitted them earlier. ‘But it’s forbidden!’

More dissenting voices joined in.

Secundus raised his arms for quiet, but the clamour grew louder.

‘This is blasphemy,’ shouted a figure near the back.

‘Kill her!’

A knot formed in Fabiola’s stomach. These tough ex-soldiers would show as little mercy as Scaevola’s fugitivarii.

Secundus watched without reacting. Eventually there was a brief lull in the noise.

‘I am the Pater,’ he announced in a firm voice. ‘Am I not?’

Men nodded their heads. The angry mutters died away, leaving a sullen silence.

‘Have I led you astray before?’

No one answered.

‘Well then,’ said Secundus. ‘Trust me now. Release her.’

To Fabiola’s amazement, the veterans holding her arms let go. They moved away awkwardly, avoiding her gaze.

‘Come here.’ Secundus, the Pater, was beckoning to her.

Feeling relieved yet scared, she moved to his side.

‘Back to your beds,’ ordered Secundus. ‘I will take charge of her.’

With plenty of backward glances, the hard-faced men did as they were told. A few moments later, Fabiola and Secundus were the only ones left in the underground chamber.

Fabiola raised an eyebrow. ‘The Pater?’

‘In the eyes of Mithras, I am their father,’ he answered. ‘As the most senior member of this temple, I am responsible for its security.’ Alone, Secundus seemed even more intimidating. He regarded her sternly. ‘You breached our trust to come in here without permission. Consider yourself lucky to be alive.’

Tears formed in Fabiola’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

‘It is done,’ said Secundus in a more forgiving tone. ‘Mithras works in strange ways.’

‘You believe me?’ she asked, her voice trembling.

‘I see no deceit in you. And you dreamt a raven.’

Fabiola had to ask. ‘Was my vision real?’

‘It was sent by the god,’ he replied evasively. ‘Yet the homa can take us far away. Too far sometimes.’

‘I saw Roman soldiers. And my brother’s friends,’ she protested. ‘About to fight a battle that no one could win. No one.’ Fat tears rolled down Fabiola’s cheeks.

‘What you observed may never happen,’ said Secundus calmly.

‘Or it has done so already,’ she retorted, filled with bitterness.

‘That is true,’ he acknowledged. ‘Visions can show all possibilities.’

Fabiola hunched her shoulders, trying to hold in the grief.

‘It is remarkable to have such a powerful dream after drinking homa for the first time,’ said Secundus. ‘And surely a sign from the god.’

‘Your men don’t seem convinced.’

‘They will obey my orders,’ said Secundus, frowning. ‘For the moment.’

Fabiola was somewhat relieved.

His next words were startling. ‘The first step in Mithraicism is to become a Corax. A raven. Many initiates never even see one.’ He stared at her. ‘Your vision means that we have met for a purpose.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Mithras reveals many things to me.’ Secundus smiled, infuriating Fabiola. She felt as if he was playing with her. ‘What are your plans?’

Fabiola reflected for a moment. She had originally intended to return to the latifundium. That was now impossible. So was staying in Rome. The uncertain political situation was proving to be even more dangerous than she had imagined and Scaevola was still at large in the city. Denied twice, the fugitivarius would not give up his pursuit of her now. Fabiola had no doubt about that. Yet without protection, where could she go? ‘I don’t know,’ Fabiola replied, eyeing the figure of Mithras hopefully.

‘You can’t stay here,’ he said. ‘My men wouldn’t stand for it.’

Fabiola was not surprised. She had broken one of the veterans’ most sacred rules, and the threats shouted at her would not go away.

‘More than one wants you dead for what was done here tonight.’

She was at his, and Mithras’, mercy. Closing her eyes, Fabiola waited for Secundus to go on.

‘Your lover is in Gaul with Caesar,’ he said. ‘Trying to quell Vercingetorix’s rebellion.’

Her heart rate quickened. ‘He is.’