Chapter Two
"This will hurt, Aurelia. Grab hold of those branches and chew on this."
Aurelia placed the bitter root between her teeth and braced herself for the pain. She did not anticipate the crippling aches that emanated from her womb. She arched her back and fiercely clung to the tree until her knuckles were white as she suppressed her screams. Marina worked as quickly as she could; her knowledge as a midwife hastened the procedure. Finally, Aurelia's spent body slumped on the ground. Marina glanced at the tent; her children slept soundly within it.
Alarbus emerged from behind the tree; he approached only when Aurelia's whimpers ceased. "Allow me to carry you to the pallet." Aurelia began to protest, but saw the look in her brother's narrowed eyes. Alarbus carried her as a small child and she curled up against his chest. Still cold. He lay her down in the smaller tent and kissed her forehead, as he did when she was younger and unburdened by tragedy. "Sleep and dream of better times."
When he believed she was asleep, Alarbus sat beside his wife, who was still scrubbing the blood from her hands.
"Where is it?"
Marina motioned to a seemingly undisturbed patch of ground. "In there. I did not wish for Aurelia to know the location of its burial."
Alarbus seemed hypnotized by the few uprooted weeds littered across the grave and did not speak until Marina's hands were clean. "A boy? A girl?"
"I hardly glanced at… it. The less I knew of it, I-" Marina's voice broke and Alarbus gathered her in his arms as he to wept for Aurelia.
"The Gods have been cruel to my sister. Have they no mercy or fortune left to spare?" Marina did not respond. That night, Alarbus and his wife did not sleep and, unknown to them, neither did Aurelia.
The sun rose above the tips of the hills of Capua when Aurelia's family began to prepare for their journey to Sicilia.
"I still do not condone leaving you here with no protection, Aurelia. We have no pressing matters to attend. Why can we not leave upon your recovery?" Alarbus asked as the older children folded their tent.
Aurelia turned on the pallet; the aches were dull thuds in her stomach and she felt well enough to move. "Janus will see me now lying on a pallet, pale and ill. When I am recovered, he will not understand why his mother does not join him in Sicilia. I am well secluded in this place. A day or two of rest is all I require before beginning my duties in the House of Batiatus."
Alarbus pursed his lips and offered no argument. He simply set down a small knife and a large sack of food beside his sister and busied himself with the horse.
Janus returned from bathing with his cousins and, seeing Aurelia still in bed, approached his mother with caution. "Mama?" His voice was so small and the sound of his feet moving so slight, Aurelia's heart ached for her unfortunate son. His golden curls were still dripping with water.
Aurelia held her hand out to him and kissed his hands. "I am unwell, Janus. I cannot go with you today. I will follow when I have recovered."
Janus tilted his head, looking at his mother very closely. She smiled despite herself. Suspicious, like his mother. "Promise?"
She held him to her chest, as if she wanted to meld him to her as they once were and shield him from the world. "Only the Gods know. I will come to you as soon as I am able. You must pray, Janus." She kissed his forehead. "The Gods hear a good child's voice clearer than any other. So you must be very good." Janus nodded, agreeing with her.
"Janus. We must go now." Marina ducked into the tent. Janus kissed his mother and ran eagerly to his cousins. Marina bent to embrace the girl; the color seemed to return to Aurelia's cheeks. "I pray this separation is brief."
"Only by some miracle." Aurelia replied, sitting up on the pallet with more ease than Marina expected. "Varro's debts are substantial. But I will find a way; remove worry from mind." As a reluctant Marina left to join her family, Aurelia drifted to sleep.
Hours later, she awoke to her stomach grumbling with hunger. She ate the bread her brother left for her and pondered Batiatus' claim that Spartacus promised his winnings to her. How soon could she return home with aid from the purse of the Champion of Capua? A man who, if one believed storied glory, brought the rains to a parched city. She once sneered at Varro's mention of honorable ends. She would now restore honor to her husband's memory and work hard to absolve her family of debt.
Rustling outside the tent interrupted her thoughts and she gripped the hilt of her knife tightly. She heard the footfalls of the intruder: step, drag, step, drag.
"Felix?"
A familiar face appeared in the opening of the tent; the sunlight behind him had faded substantially. "I brought fruit, but I see your brother provides." Felix smiled his wide smile. "Good. I am starved."
Aurelia looked at his paunch with a raised eyebrow. "You look starved."
"Oh, this? Silvia claims it is a regal mark." He tossed her an orange. "She believes I am descended from royalty. You should be honored."
"What does she say of your assistance?" Aurelia asked with some hesitation. Though Silvia proved to be a loyal wife, she burned with jealousy at Felix and Aurelia's friendship.
Felix swallowed nervously. "She does not know. She believes I leave for the country this night and that I am attending to pressing business before I depart. Which is not entirely untrue. When you are well, I will leave Capua seeking produce."
Felix's words brought back the nausea Aurelia felt when her son left. So many sacrifices. "Why did you lie?"
Felix looked at her knowingly. "Aurelia, you are aware of the distrust Silvia bears toward you. And she is hopelessly naïve. She would expose my role in our plot without any consideration and ruin us all." Felix unrolled a pallet and laid it outside the tent. "Free yourself from any anxiety. With my wife properly fooled, your caravan departed and Titus' widow scouring the wrong places for traces of her husband's killer, you and I are safe. Now, if you will excuse me, I am an old man and I require rest."
The dewy morning came and Felix did not stir as Aurelia cleared the tent. Her hands yet trembled and her stomach churned but she was able to walk. That was well enough. She would not put her childhood friend in harm's way or in the way of his wife's wrath, not after all the kindness he showed her. When Felix would awake, he would find only a sack of food in her place.
Weakened knees carried her to the precipice beside Batiatus' ludus. For a quick moment, she contemplated stepping forward into the abyss; thoughts of her Janus withdrew her foot. She tossed the bloodied rags over the cliff, erasing any evidence of her time in Capua. Alarbus took Varro's ashes with him, promising to bury them when she returned. Such pain, such sacrifice, such agony she and those she cared for bore in the wake of Varro's death. She felt a swell of anger as she walked to the ludus gates, the flame of it searing any other emotion from her heart. No self-pity, no pain, only hate. Hatred for the man who stole the light from her life, the man who slew Varro.
She spat the name. "Spartacus."
