Chapter 25: Bella

Better death with him than life without him. But that was when I thought we had a chance to escape together, my hand in his, our lives forever entwined. Inseparable, in this world and the next. When it came to it, death with him was impossible to choose. In that moment I just could not let him be taken, whatever it means for me. Even if that is life without him. But it may well be death without him. I have no way of knowing. If they had taken us both, surely they would have killed me first, and made him watch, before putting him through a slow and agonising death. At least I have saved him from that. Or perhaps they would make me watch him suffer, as my punishment for my betrayal, as they will see it: of Rome, of them, of all that they swear allegiance to and uphold, in what they consider to be this barbarian, uncivilised country. While he is alive, I have a tiny flicker of hope that he may be able to come back for me. He promised. He promised. I have to hold on to that. While he is alive, there is a chance for us, for our love. If I don't give up, then he won't. I know it.

The guardhouse has no window, so I only know it is morning when the door is flung open and the light floods in. To my surprise it is Bretta. She brings warm bread and water with some wine in it. When I have eaten, she says:

'Come. Come.'

Outside a soldier is waiting and he escorts us to the house. Bretta takes me to my room.

'Get clean. Get ready,' she says.

She brings a bowl of warm water and a cloth. While I wash, she finds a tunic. When I am dressed, she brushes my hair. When she judges me presentable, she says:

'Good. Good.' She nods approval.

'Did he beat you?' I ask. I touch my face, tender from the blow.

'No. The boy says it was you put him in the cupboard. He did not see me. He says you are a traitor.' She wants to put make-up on the bruise, but I wave it away. I want people to see it, although I don't know what good that will do.

'Do they believe him?'

She shrugs. 'They ask me what I saw. I say I saw nothing – which is true. It is the best way, see nothing. But they found you outside the fort. You helped him escape. I don't think it matters what I say I saw – or not. I am sorry.'

So am I.

The soldier taps on the door.

'You have to face them,' Bretta says.

I hug her, then I follow the soldier.

They are waiting for me in Rusticus's office. Rusticus, Fabius and Publius. Rusticus is seated at his desk and Fabius and Publius sit either side of him. They have allowed Mother in, but she sits behind Publius, eyes downcast. She sits absolutely still throughout the proceedings. Nothing moves. She is a statue. All the bad feelings I have about this meeting are made worse. If things were going to be all right, she would look at me. I tremble. As I enter, Fabius is saying:

'The contract is null and void, of course. I can't possibly proceed in the circumstances.'

They fall silent as they see me.

I have to stand. I can't pay proper attention to what they are saying, but the word traitor is soon filling the room. Fabius accuses me of consorting with the enemy; Rusticus talks about putting the security of the fort at risk. Publius whines on about honour, which is rich coming from someone who is stealing from the state. But I cannot say anything about that: I have no proof.

Eventually Rusticus asks me if I have anything to say about why I did it.

'I love him,' I say. I rub his bronze ring with my thumb.

The room erupts. There is no chance to explain anything about Eadweard and his life in the village. I have said something unthinkable.

'I knew it! I knew it!' Fabius shouts, jumping up. 'I am willing to wager he has violated her.'

I want to say it wasn't violation: I consented, I wanted it, I enjoyed it, I would do it again in a heartbeat, but there is no point trying to make myself heard above this storm of male indignation. Publius is on his feet, still shouting about his honour. If anything, Mother has shrunk down even further at this accusation. Rusticus sits with his elbows on the desk, forehead resting on the heels of his hands, as if he can't quite believe what he is hearing.

'Gentlemen,' Rusticus says at last, lifting his head, when the gale seems to be blowing itself out. 'We need to come to a decision here. I don't think there is any question of the marriage contract being enforced. I think we are agreed on that.'

Fabius and Publius mumble their agreement.

'The question is, what happens next?'

'The law is quite clear,' Fabius says coldly. 'It must be death. A beheading in the courtyard. But that is far too good for her.'

At this point, Mother rises.

'Gentlemen, please. Have some common decency. Allow me and my daughter to withdraw while you discuss this. There is no reason to put her through this.'

Fabius opens his mouth to protest. Clearly he thinks I do deserve to listen to the options. However, Rusticus, who is in charge, nods and gestures for us to leave the room.

'I have the right to appeal to the Emperor,' I call over my shoulder as I am hustled out by my guard. A swift beheading would be more merciful, but I need to buy time, so that Eadweard can come for me, as he promised. I can't let myself think he is dead. I can't.

In my room, Mother can contain herself no longer. She weeps.

'Oh, Bella, Bella, what have you done?'

'Mother, I love him.'

I am also crying now.

'Have you slept with him? Is it true?'

From the pocket of her stola, she pulls the phial of chicken blood that Valeria gave me.

'No more secrets from each other,' she says.

We both know that time may be too short for that. Roman justice is nothing if not swift.

Gaius hammers on the door, clamouring to be let in. Mother looks at me, and I nod. He rushes towards me, grabbing hold of me in a tight hug.

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!' he gasps. 'I didn't know what would happen. I can tell Father I didn't mean it.'

'It's all right,' I tell him. 'You didn't make this happen. It's not your fault.'

'Then whose fault is it?' he asks, wiping his snotty nose on his sleeve and going to stand beside Mother, so she can put an arm round him. 'Tell me. I'll fight them for you. I'm very good now.'

Mother ruffles his hair.

'It is in the lap of the gods now,' she says. 'We must wait and see what their answer is. If you want to help, then I need you to go to the household shrine, make an offering and pray. Not a short pretend prayer, but a good long one, asking for Bella to be delivered.'

'Delivered?' he asks, puzzled.

'Got out of this mess,' I say. 'Pray for things to go back to the way they were.'

'But a good and respectful offering,' Mother says. 'And a good and respectful – and long – prayer. If you don't spend a long time on your knees, then the gods won't know you mean it.'

He ponders for a moment, then his face brightens.

'I can do that.' And he is gone.

We are alone again. We wait. I know I shouldn't waste a single minute – there may not be many more left to me. But I do not know how to start.

Rusticus himself comes to tell us what has been decided.

'I am sending to Isca for a decision,' he says. 'Because you have invoked your right to appeal to Emperor Nero, I don't feel I can carry out an execution. Manius Fabius is not happy with that decision, of course. If it goes to Rome, it will bring him to the attention of the Emperor, and not in a good way.'

'But he is not on trial,' Mother says.

'But news of the engagement may come out. Who knows how the Emperor will take it?'

'True. And my husband? What is his position?'

Rusticus looks at the floor and shuffles his feet a bit.

'I see,' Mother says.

'No, no – he didn't say much either way. Can I speak freely?'

Mother nods.

'It's treason, there's no way round it, I'm afraid. Passing information to a potential enemy and helping him to escape. I can't dress it up any other way. I'm sorry. Don't get your hopes up for a favourable response from the Legate. I did warn you, Aurelia, didn't I? On pain of death. But you went ahead anyway. I can't save you. And I will carry out my orders from Isca. Don't think that I won't.'

His words hang heavy in the air. There is nothing I can say to save myself.

'Both Manius Fabius and – your husband – want to save face. They don't want to be associated with a traitor – sorry, Aurelia. There was no way your step-father could possibly speak up for you.'

Always, always, always what other people think.

'Thank you,' Mother says. 'Thank you for laying it out so clearly.'

'How long?' I whisper. 'How long before an answer comes back from Isca?'

He thinks.

'A day, perhaps a day and a half, depending on how long it takes the Legate to make a decision.'

'Can you ask them – to ride slowly?' Mother asks.

'I'm sorry, that will be out of my hands,' he says. 'The men – it's their feelings as well. The druids put the fear of Hades in them. They won't be too sympathetic to someone who says she's a friend to them.'

'What if I ask them – appeal to them as a mother?' she asks.

He shakes his head.

'I wouldn't.' He turns to go. 'I trust you to stay here, Aurelia. I can't guarantee your safety outside this room. I'm sorry. I understand if you want to spend as much time as possible with your mother. We'll keep Gaius occupied. Some of the boys can take him fishing, or something like that.'

'Thank you,' Mother says. 'No hunting, though.'

The door closes behind him.

'I'm sorry,' I say.

'For what?' she asks.

'It was my fault Father died. It was my remedy. I tried to add to Aunt Sevy's recipe. I shouldn't have done that. It's my fault we are here.'

'Oh, my dear. Have you carried that guilt all this time? Why didn't you tell me?'

'I thought you blamed me. I thought – I reminded you of it – of him.'

'I thought Uncle Paullus told you at the time. He caught something in Egypt. Something that killed a few of the men in his cohort. Sometimes those things, they come back, years later. It wasn't anything you did.'

'He told me but I didn't believe him. It wasn't the Egypt thing. It was just a bug. The remedy should have worked, but I changed it.'

'I don't blame you. I didn't blame you at the time. I thought you blamed me for us being here, because I married Publius. I know you've never liked him.'

'You only married him because I killed Father. It's still my fault.'

'My dear child.'

She embraces me. We both start to cry. There will be a lot of tears before this is over, I am sure of it. I cry for the pain I have caused, and continue to cause.

Bretta brings food, but we only pick at it. After dinner, Publius arrives. I have been lying curled up miserably on my bed, while Mother sits by my head and intermittently strokes my hair. I struggle to sit up. He is carrying a small wooden box, which he sets down on the small table next to our abandoned food. I recognise it; it is one my father made for me, on which he carved a pattern of leaping goats. I have not seen it since – since my father died. It was my remedy box.

'Well, young lady,' he says, 'you have managed to ruin it all, haven't you? Well done.'

I assume I am not meant to answer, that this is a telling-off.

'We were all set there. You were going to be the wife of an important official, one of the Governor's closest advisors. Who knows what that might have done for your mother?'

For you, you mean, I think.

'It might have been the route out of here for all of us,' he continues. 'We could have gone to Londinium. Then perhaps – back to Rome. A residence and all the perks that go with high office.'

That's right, you deceive yourself that was ever going to happen, I think. Fabius would have needed a mighty big bribe, and I would not be it.

'But no. You decide, in your selfishness, to throw yourself after a – a – local. A wretched little Brit.'

'I don't think – ' Mother starts to say.

'Let me finish, Livia,' he says. 'And not only is he a local, but a local rabble-rouser at that – an enemy of the state – '

'How could she be expected to know that?' Mother says indignantly.

'He isn't,' I say forcefully.

'He is if the Emperor says he is. Livia, don't interrupt. So you throw yourself at this man – this boy – and for what? For love.' The disdain in his voice couldn't be clearer. 'You throw away your reputation – my reputation, my good name – for love.'

My opportunity, my ticket out of here, my promotion. All about him.

'I love him,' I say simply. 'Doesn't that count for something?'

'You stupid child. No-one marries for love.'

Mother glares at him as if scales are falling from her eyes.

'Oh, don't pretend,' he says to her. 'You married again because you needed a man about the place. You didn't ask too many questions about whether that man should be me.'

'I don't remember asking you. You asked me, if memory serves. You chased me.'

He turns back to me.

'Marriage is a contract. It's a business arrangement. If there's love, well, that's a bonus. But not a necessity.' He doesn't look at Mother.

'Well, she got a bad bargain,' I say. There's no point in being polite any more now. He chooses to ignore my comment.

'But all is not lost. You can restore your reputation.'

My heart leaps. He opens the box and produces a phial. Mother gasps.

'No!' she says.

'What, you want to see your only daughter mauled to death by lions? Or would you prefer whipped to death, naked, for all to see? Sending her to Rome will only delay the inevitable, and make it more public and more painful. The Emperor will not save her. He has no love for the druids. This way, her reputation – and ours – will be saved. If we can keep Manius Fabius out of it, he has promised to – '

'Is that all that matters to you?' Mother says fiercely. 'Get out.'

'It is better this way,' he says, putting the phial back in the box but leaving the box lid off. 'Believe me. Better for all of us. The more you take, the quicker it will be. Best you do it soon, before the answer comes back from Isca.'

After he has left, we stare at the box and its deadly contents. A day. A day and a half at most for Eadweard to come and save me. But he will have to come with armed men to get me out of here now.

Mother takes my hand.

'I'm so sorry,' she says. 'I'm so sorry.'

'Now? Do you want me to do it . . . now?' I can hardly speak. There is not enough air in the room to breathe.

'No, no, of course I don't. Of course I don't.'

'You can't possibly think – you don't agree with him, do you?'

I jump up, out of her grasp, and start pacing frantically.

'What other option is there? Think about it. The Legate denies you your right to appeal to the Emperor and you – you – it all ends here, in that grubby courtyard, in front of all those soldiers, who hate you now. The day after tomorrow. Or it all ends in Rome, in a few months' time.'

'But Eadweard – '

'Don't count on it and don't deceive yourself. You don't even know if he's alive.'

'He told me. He told me he would come back for me.'

'He couldn't make that promise. He couldn't possibly know.'

I sink to my knees, bury my face in my bed and sob. She strokes my shoulders.

'At least this will be in your own hands,' she says soothingly. 'You will be in control. It won't be brutal. I can be with you.'

The day wears on, the shadows move across the walls. Mother goes out to see to Gaius, but she promises to return. I lie and stare at my little box for a while. I thought I had lost it, in the pandemonium that ensued after Father died. I had kept his remedy in it, and the phial was not empty. I had worried who might find it. I pick up the lid and trace his carving with my finger. My heart swells with love and pain and memories. I remember the dream I had in the village, and him gesturing to me. What was he trying to tell me? Was it something to do with the remedy?

'It's not all right, Father,' I whisper. 'I don't think I can put it right now. I don't know what you want. But at least I shall see you again.'

Mother finds me asleep with the box lid in my hands. We lie together in the lengthening shadows and talk about him, and our happy days on the farm. We talk about poor Egnatia, rejected by Publius because she was a girl.

'I don't think she died,' Mother says. 'I like to think that Aunt Sevy and Uncle Paullus got her away to another farm family.'

'But they showed us a grave,' I say.

'Uncle Paullus is like your father. He would never have harmed an innocent baby. It was probably a baby goat, or similar. The less we actually knew, the better.'

'How could you say you love someone who does something like that?' I ask.

She sighs, and explains it was his right as the baby's father not to acknowledge her. She doesn't attempt to explain his thinking, but poor Egnatia would have been another expensive mouth to feed, another dowry to find, when he needed as much money as he could lay his hands on to buy a preferment.

'I hope they gave her a nicer name,' I say. We laugh.

We talk through all our misunderstandings after Father's death. I explain again why I blame myself, that I think it's all my fault that Mother had to marry Publius and we ended up here. She explains that she thinks I blame her, and this is why I am so sulky and difficult. At last I say out loud that I hate him. I tell her I thought she seemed so happy that I was to be married to Manius Fabius.

'It was your way out of here,' she says. 'I know you hate your step-father. I thought you would be going to a better life.'

Then she asks me about Eadweard, and I tell her. I tell her everything. What he is like; how I feel about him. That he and his family, his village, are not barbarians, the way we have been told to think of them. That we are betrothed, according to their customs. No more secrets between us. But I don't tell her about the sacred pool, the love-making, the physical wonderfulness of him, the joy of being one with him, because I don't really have the words to describe it. And if I do, it won't be the same, it won't be special anymore.

'But you slept with him.'

'I don't regret it.'

'But what if he hadn't offered to marry you?'

'He respects me. He hasn't taken advantage of me. He wouldn't.'

She sighs.

'I want you to understand,' I say. 'I'm not a traitor – not in my eyes. It was all for love. I was running away with him.'

'But does he love you?'

Of course he does. He has never said it, but the way he kissed me last night. He came back for me. He must do.

'Oh, Bella, Bella,' she says.

We sleep fitfully, squashed on the narrow bed. I want to stay awake, these could be my last hours, but Somnus cannot be resisted. Mother, exhausted, sleeps, so with no-one to talk to, I doze. For some reason, Father's last days and Publius and the remedy keep coming into my thoughts. In my waking moments, I pray to Ultio for guidance, hoping against hope that Eadweard is right, and she will hear me, no matter what the Emperor thinks.

As the room starts to lighten, Bretta brings breakfast. She tells us that it was a while before the messengers set off for Isca, because one of the horses was lame. We have perhaps half a day longer. She tells us Fabius is still here.

'Waiting to see the show,' Mother says grimly.

'And you thought he would be a good husband for me?' I ask.

'I had to take him at his word. Besides. The decision was not mine.'

We eat some of the bread. Bretta has saved us some honey.

'Bella,' Mother says. 'We – you – must start to think how you want to . . . do this.'

We look at the phial, nestled in the box.

'There is a place in the woods, where Eadweard and I met a couple of times,' I say. 'I have a small altar to Venus there. It's – peaceful. It's out of sight of the fort. There, I think. If it has to be anywhere.'

She nods.

'That sounds – like a good place.'

I approach the phial. In spite of myself, I am curious as to what is inside it. Mother gasps as I remove the stopper. A musty smell wafts out. The smell of wet mice.

'Do you recognise that smell?' I say.

'It does seem familiar.'

'This is my potion, the one I gave Father – to cure him. And that, Eadweard has taught me, is the smell of white hemlock.'

'And what does that do?'

I can hardly get the words out. 'Kills you.'

We look at each other in alarm.

'Are you sure?' she asks. 'Absolutely, without any doubt, sure?'

'Yes. He was very insistent that I know what it looks like and smells like.'

'And this is definitely the remedy you gave your father?'

'Yes. Look.' On the side of the phial I had scratched the initials MA. They are just visible, despite some vigorous rubbing. 'And the stopper. It has my initial on it.'

'And you are sure you wouldn't have added this – this hemlock yourself? You didn't know about it then.'

'I only added something I had used before and knew had worked before.'

'Oh lares,' she says. 'Juno preserve us.'

But I think it is not Juno who hears us; it must be Ultio, showing me the way: showing me what act my father's blood demands vengeance for.

I replace the phial in the box and sink down on to the bed. For a moment, we are too shocked to speak. Then I tell her about how Publius wanted to help me with making the remedy, how he insisted on pounding the leaves in the mortar, how he stirred it for me when I was making the infusion.

'So he could have added anything at any point in the process,' she says.

'And clearly did.'

She asks if I noticed the change in smell at the time, but I thought that was down to the new ingredients I had added, not anything he might have put in.

'Can we use this information?' she asks. 'To get your freedom? Surely he will have to let you go when we confront him with this.'

'It's completely different from his petty stealing. It's a capital offence. He's as guilty as I am.'

'Then he will want to make a deal,' she says. 'He won't want this getting out.'

For the first time in two days, we have hope.