Chapter Six: Curses and Thunderbolts
Clop-clop, clop-clop, clop-clop, clop-clop . . .
The winter landscape was cheerless and bleak. The bare trees were like skeletons, the icy fields silent and still. The only sound was the monotonous clopping of the horses' hooves, dragging the heavily laden sledge slowly down the endless frozen road.
"The gods have favored us by bringing an early frost to Cisalpine Gaul," remarked serene and stately Servilia of the Junii. "Even Roman roads are easier to travel without the rain and mud."
"Yes, we are greatly f-favored by the gods!" Octavia of the Julii tried to sound cheerful and undaunted, but the beautiful young noblewoman couldn't help shivering a little as she spoke. Each time she exhaled, her warm breath made enormous billowing clouds in the frosty air. But even through the clouds of vapor Octavia could see the lone rider up ahead.
Lucius Vorenus.
"Your hero seems to be braving the cold quite nicely, with nothing but a centurion's scarlet cloak to keep him warm. Doesn't he look dashing on that white horse? The perfect soldier!" Servilia's alabaster features were calm and serene, as always. But her lovely dark brown eyes twinkled as she spoke.
"Lucius Vorenus is indeed the perfect soldier," Octavia replied with dignity, clutching her fur robes tighter around her shoulders. "He is a hero to all Rome, not just to me!"
"Yes, and all Rome is counting on him to bring us safely to the camp of Marcus Lepidus." Servilia reached into her own robes, pulled out a shining silver flask and drank. "But in order for us to complete our mission, dearest, we must remain on guard. We must not wander off alone and endanger the safety of the camp. We are Roman ladies. To forget that is to endanger many lives, including our own. Will you try to remember that, dearest?"
"I will remember," Octavia said stiffly. Last night she had left Servilia sleeping in the warm tent they shared and gone to seek out Vorenus. But the stern soldier had ordered her back to bed before she could even begin to thank him for escorting her on her dangerous mission. Octavia was embarrassed. Humiliated. She had gone back to her tent, as ordered. But she hadn't slept.
"Perhaps a drop of wine, to keep off the chill?" Servilia passed the flask with a knowing smile, like a general calling for a truce.
"Um, thanks." Octavia coughed a little as she drank the wine, which was sour to the taste and very strong. At home her mother always watered the wine they drank at mealtimes, and Octavia usually added honey to her cup. But at least this strong, sour, undiluted wine drove off the chill. Octavia settled a bit deeper into her furs.
"Lucius Vorenus is setting a good pace," Servilia commented, after they had ridden in silence for some time. "We should reach the camp of Lepidus by nightfall. Our centurion knows his job."
"Yes." Octavia didn't feel like discussing the cold, autocratic centurion any further. Why had she been such a fool last night? Vorenus probably thought she was a tramp, like his wretched first wife Niobe. No, it was worse than that. He thought she was still a child!
"Here, share my furs, and we'll be twice as warm."
"Mm." Octavia didn't object as Servilia tucked the two of them in together. Instead she rested her head on the older woman's shoulder. But her eyes stayed fixed on the centurion's wide shoulders. Octavia was very angry. She kept begging curses and thunderbolts to come down from the gods. But the gods took no notice. And neither did Vorenus. And soon Octavia was asleep.
A/N: There is one mystery reviewer who has been incredibly supportive of this story – and you know who you are! Tibi gratias ad ago!