To Love Again Read online

  "Can you see the baby's head?" Cailin asked her. "Ohh, I wish Ceara and Maeve were here with me. I need them!"

  "They could do nothing for you that I cannot," Antonia replied sharply, then her tone softened a bit. "I can see the baby's head. Be brave, Cailin Drusus, just a few more minutes and your child will be born."

  "The gods!" Cailin groaned. "Where is Wulf? Antonia, I am very dizzy. What exactly did you put in that wine?" Another pain came.

  Antonia ignored Cailin's questions. "Push!" she commanded the straining girl. "Push hard. Harder."

  The infant's head and shoulders appeared between its mother's legs. Antonia smiled, well-pleased. Cailin did not realize it, but she was having an easy labor. The baby would be born in just another moment.

  Cailin was having difficulty keeping her eyes open. Her head was whirling violently and she felt as if she were beginning to fall. Another terrible pain washed over her. She heard, if somewhat distantly, Antonia's voice demanding she push again. Cailin struggled to obey. She couldn't allow herself to become unconscious. Making a supreme effort, she pushed with all her might. She was rewarded by the sudden cry of a newborn baby, and her heart accelerated with excitement and joy. Then, as suddenly, the darkness rushed up to claim her. She fought valiantly against it, but it was no use. The last thing she remembered was Antonia saying, "She is so sweet. I have always wanted a little girl," and then Cailin remembered no more.

  ***

  When Wulf Ironfist arrived to reclaim his wife two days later, Antonia came slowly into the atrium to greet him. She was crying, the tears sliding down her fair skin. "What is it?" he asked, a sinking feeling overcoming him even as he put forth the question.

  Antonia sobbed and threw herself into his startled embrace. "Cailin!" she wept piteously. "Cailin is dead, and the child-your son-with her! I could not save them. I tried! I swear I tried!"

  "How?" he said, stunned. "How could this happen, Antonia? She was healthy and well when I saw her last."

  Antonia stepped from the shelter of his arms and, looking up at him with her wide blue eyes, said, "Your son was large. He was not properly positioned. A child is born head first, but this boy came feet first. He tore poor Cailin almost in two. Her suffering was a terrible thing to behold. She bled to death. The child, so long in birthing, did not survive her by more than an hour. I never imagined such a thing could happen. I am sorry, Wulf Ironfist."

  "Where is her body?" he demanded. His voice was hard and cold. Cailin! His beloved lambkin dead? It could not be! It could not be! He would not believe it! "I want to see my wife's body," he repeated. The pain in his chest was fierce. Could a heart break in two, he wondered, for he believed that it was happening to him now.

  "She was so torn apart," Antonia explained, "that we could not prepare her properly for burial. I had her cremated, the way our Celtic ancestors used to cremate their dead. I put the baby in her arms so that they would reach the gods together."

  He nodded, numb with grief. "I want her ashes," he said stonily. "Surely you have her ashes. I will take her home and bury her on her land with the rest of her family. Cailin would want that."

  "Of course," Antonia agreed softly, and turning about, she picked up a prettily decorated polished bronze urn from the atrium bench. "Cailin's ashes, and those of your son, are within this vessel, Wulf Ironfist." She handed it to him with a sympathetic smile. "I understand your grief, having just recently lost both a mate and a child myself." she said.

  He took the urn from her, almost reluctantly, as if he could still not believe what she had told him. Then he turned wordlessly away from her and started for the door.

  Antonia silently exulted in his pain. Then a wicked thought came to her, and she acted impulsively upon it.

  "Wulf." Her voice was suddenly seductive.

  He turned back to her, and was shocked to see that she had removed her robe and was stark naked. She was all pink and white, and plump. There was not a mark upon her to spoil the perfection of her smooth skin. He found her appallingly repulsive. For a moment he was rooted to the spot where he stood, staring at her repugnant nudity.

  "I am lonely, Wulf Ironfist," Antonia said softly. "So lonely."

  "Lady, put your robe back on," he said.

  "You killed my husband, Wulf Ironfist. Now I am lonely. Do you not think you should compensate me for the loss of Quintus Drusus?" Antonia purred to her horrified audience. She slipped her hands beneath her large breasts, with their deep rose nipples, and lifted them as if she were offering them to him. "Are you not tempted to sample these fine fruits, Wulf Ironfist? Is that weapon beneath your braccos not already hard with your longing for me?"

  "Clothe yourself, lady," he said coldly. "You disgust me."

  She launched herself at him, her naked body pressing against him. He was overpowered by the scent of musk. "You are the handsomest man in the province, Wulf Ironfist," she said, panting with desire. "I always have the handsomest man in the province for my mate." Her arms slipped tightly about his neck. "Kiss me, you Saxon brute, and then you must take me. Here! Where we stand on the floor of the atrium. Stuff me with your manhood and make me scream with pleasure. I am so hot for you!"

  Wulf took her arms from him and thrust her away. He felt near to vomiting. "Lady, your grief has made you mad. First your husband and child, and then my wife and son. I am sorry for you, but I must master my own grief. It is already tearing me apart. I loved my wife. I do not know how I will go on without her. What is left for me? Nothing! Nothing!" He turned and stumbled from the atrium.

  "Go!" Antonia shrieked after him. "Go, Wulf Ironfist! If you are in pain, I am glad! Now you will know how I felt when you butchered my Quintus! May the sorrow eat your heart out! I will be glad of it!" Bending down, she picked up her robe and slipped it back on. "I wish I could have told you the truth, Wulf Ironfist," she said softly to herself, "but I could not. Then my father would find out, and I cannot have that." She laughed. "Still, I have had my revenge upon you, and Cailin Drusus. If no one knows but me, what difference will it make?"

  When Anthony Porcius returned from Corinium several weeks later, his daughter was prepared and waiting. They sat together in the mid-autumn air of her garden while Antonia nursed the infant at her breast.

  "I was shocked, Father," she said. "He didn't want her. He was ready to expose her on the hillside, had I not begged him for the child. All that mattered to him was that Cailin had not given him the son he wanted. These Saxons are cruel people, Father. Fortunately, little Quintus was ready to be weaned, and my milk is rich, so I decided to take the baby and raise her with my son. It almost makes up for having lost my own baby. Poor Cailin!"

  "Where is Wulf Ironfist now?" the magistrate asked.

  "He has disappeared." Antonia replied. "No one knows where he has gone. He made no provision for his slaves. He simply left. The land, of course, now belongs to my little Aurora. I call her that because she was born with the dawn, even as her mother died. I sent my majordomo to drive off those Dobunni who had begun to build a hall at the river villa. They said that Cailin had given them the land for a wedding gift, but I told them it was mine by right of inheritance, and that Cailin was dead in childbirth and not here to enforce their supposed rights. They did not give me much difficulty, and are now gone."

  Anthony Porcius nodded. It was all so much to take in, he thought, but one good thing had come of it. Antonia seemed to be her old self again. Taking in the orphaned daughter of Cailin Drusus had obviously been good for her.

  "You will stay here with us, Father, won't you?" Antonia said. "I do need you so very much. I shall not marry again, but will devote my life to my two children. It is, I feel, what the gods desire of me."

  "Perhaps you are right," he said, reaching out and taking her hand in his. "We will be a happy family, Antonia. I know it in my heart!"

  BYZANTIUM

  A.D. 454-456

  Chapter 7

  “I do not believe it!" Phocas Maxima said, surprised. "This ca
nnot be the same girl you purchased in the market this morning, Jovian. That creature was a filthy, sore-ridden horror. This girl is lovely. Her skin is like cream. There isn't a mark on her, and that hair! The rich auburn color, those marvelous little curls!"

  They are one and the same, brother dear," Jovian Maxima said in smug tones. "You are a true businessman; you have absolutely no imagination, Phocas. The moment I laid eyes upon the girl, I knew she was a treasure. All it took was hot water and soap to clean her up. Not only that, her Latin is flawless, but for a slight provincial accent which can be corrected-although some may find it most charming." He looked to the slave girl who accompanied his new purchase. "Isis, remove her tunica, please."

  Phocas Maxima stared hard at the girl when she finally stood nude before him. "She's a bit slender for my taste," he noted, "but we can fatten her up. I don't imagine she's been getting a great deal to eat recently. Her feet looked dreadfully roughened."

  "She's done a lot of walking, I would imagine," Jovian replied.

  "We can eventually correct it," his brother said. "Her breasts are very nice; small, but well-formed. Well, I must admit it, you did get us quite a good bargain in this girl. Does she understand what is expected of her, or are we going to have to train her? She is pagan, I hope."

  It was as if she did not exist except as an object, Cailin thought as she listened to the two brothers chattering back and forth about her and her eventual fate. Not that it really mattered. Nothing mattered anymore. It was all so confusing. She didn't even understand why she was still alive when all she wanted was to be dead; but something inside her would not allow her to die. It made her angry, but there was naught she seemed to be able to do about it.

  She thought back over the many days that had passed since she had Iain in labor at Antonia's villa. The last thing she remembered was the cry of a baby as she sank into unconsciousness. When she came vaguely to her senses, she was in a dirty room in a strange house. The woman who brought her food told her she was in Londinium, which amazed Cailin. She had heard of Londinium, but had never thought to see it in her lifetime. As it turned out, she did not see it, for when she asked what she was doing in this place, she was told that the lady Antonia had sold her to Simon, the slave merchant, and that shortly she would be transported to Gaul and beyond.

  "But I am no slave!" Cailin protested.

  "That is what the lady Antonia said you would say," the woman replied sourly. "She says you're real troublesome and have ideas above your station, girl. Why, you even seduced her late husband, and bore his bastard. Well, she'll have no more of you, wench."

  "Where is my baby?" Cailin demanded.

  "The brat died, I'm told," was the cold reply.

  Cailin began to weep hysterically. "I do not believe you!" she protested. Before she knew it, a bitter liquid was being forced down her throat and she was sliding into darkness again.

  For days afterward she drifted between reality and nightmare. When she finally was allowed to come to herself again, she was in Gaul, traveling south with a shipment of other slaves down the backbone of the land, toward the Mediterranean Sea. Not long after, one particular beautiful young woman attempted to escape, for unlike many of the slaves traveling with them, she wore no collar, nor was she chained. She was quickly recaptured, being unfamiliar with the land.

  The slave master debated on her punishment. To beat her would mark her fair skin, and that same fair skin was an asset that could bring him a pretty penny for the girl. He elected to make his point by raping her, which he did before the entire party of travelers. "Run again, bitch," he threatened as he jammed himself into her, "and I'll give you to my men! Perhaps you'd like that, wench, eh?"

  The look of terror on all the women's faces told the slave master that he would have no more difficulty with any of them. Indeed, after that Cailin went out of her way to make herself invisible. She allowed her hair to go unwashed and uncombed. Her tunica, which was the only garment she possessed, grew more worn with each passing day. She did not dare wash it for fear that it would disintegrate and leave her naked, like some of the other women. She did not expect she would be supplied with other clothing if she lost what she possessed.

  When they reached the coast, the slaves were separated, some being put aboard ship for a town called Carthage, while Cailin and the rest were being sent to a place called Constantinople. It was, she later learned by listening to others, the great capital city of the Eastern Empire. The male slaves in her group were chained to the oars of the galley. They would be sold when and if they reached their destination, but in the meantime they would provide the manpower to get there. The women were penned below in barely habitable quarters; a square space with no sleeping accommodations but the floor; a wooden bucket for their needs; little light, and less air.

  Each night, the first mate would arrive grinning, and select several of the women, whom he would take away. They returned with the morning, usually laughing, with extra food or water for themselves, which they usually chose not to share. Their own survival was paramount. Cailin instinctively hid herself in the darkest corner when the first mate came. She did not need to be told what the women were doing, or why they were given gifts. She grew thinner with the meager rations supplied her, but somehow remained alive to reach Constantinople.

  The morning of their arrival, the slave master came to carefully look over the women. He selected several who appeared more attractive than the others. They were immediately removed. Some of those not chosen tried to plead with the slave master to take them, and they wept when he roughly shoved them away.

  "Where have the others gone?" Cailin asked of an older woman.

  The woman looked at her and replied, "They are considered the best of us. They will be taken to a private slave market where they will be bathed, perfumed, and clothed in fine raiment before being auctioned off. They will get wealthy masters, and live comfortably if they please those masters."

  "What will happen to us?" Cailin inquired curiously.

  "It's the public market for us," the woman said fatalistically. "We'll be bought as house or field slaves, or for some waterfront brothel."

  "What is a brothel?"

  The look of astonishment on the woman's face was almost comical, but before she might answer Cailin, the slave master's minions came below and began herding the women up onto the deck. They blinked uncomfortably in the sunshine, their eyes unused to bright light after their many days at sea spent in the semidark of the hold. Gradually, as they adjusted to the daylight, they were led off the vessel and through the city streets to the public slave market.

  Cailin was astounded by the four and five-story buildings along their route. She had never seen buildings so big. And the noise! There seemed to be no quiet in this place. She couldn't imagine how people managed to live amid the cacophony and such dirt. The streets were strewn with garbage, and both human and animal waste was littered all about. Her bare feet cringed with every step.

  At last they reached the open slave market, where little time was wasted. One after another, the slaves who had traveled with her were put up upon the block to be quickly sold off. Again Cailin hid herself among the others, until finally there was no longer any place to hide. She was roughly pulled by the arm onto the little platform.

  "Here's a fine, strong young girl, good for house or field," the slave dealer said. Turning to Cailin, he ordered, "Open your mouth, wench." He peered in, and then announced to his audience, "She has all her teeth. What am I bid?"

  The spectators looked up at the creature offered. She was tall and pitifully thin. Her hair, of an undistinguishable color, was filthy and matted. There was nothing at all about her that could be considered attractive. Despite the slave merchant's spiel, she did not look particularly strong or healthy. They shuffled their feet, and several began to slowly drift away.

  "Offer me something," the slave merchant pleaded with his audience. "She speaks good Latin. Cleaned up, she would make a good nursemaid, or tavern se
rvant. Smile, girl!" he hissed angrily at Cailin.

  She ignored him. If no one bought her, perhaps they would kill her, and then she would be out of her misery. Then suddenly into her view came the most astounding creature Cailin had ever seen. He was plump, with rosy cheeks and merry dark brown eyes that surveyed her quite carefully. He was dressed in a plum-and-gold-striped silk dalmatica. His round head was covered in a profusion of tight black curls. The creature pursed his pink lips thoughtfully, and then said in a clear, sweet voice, "I will give you two folles for her."

  "Two folles?" The slave merchant pretended outrage, although he was relieved to be offered anything for the wretched creature. He was just about to accept the gentleman's offer when the elegant spoke again.

  "Oh, very well, I shall give you four folles. I'll not have you whining afterward that I cheated you. You slave merchants are all alike when a man snatches a bargain from under your very noses. You cannot see the value in what you have-but if someone else does, you howl and cry to the gods-er, God," the gentleman amended.

  "Jovian," the plainly dressed gentleman who accompanied the elegant said irritably, "the girl isn't worth five nummi, let alone four folles."

  "She is worth a dozen solidi, brother, even if you cannot see it right now. Trust me. You know I have an eye for such things," the curly-haired man murmured, extracting the coins from his purse and handing them to the slave merchant. "Here, fellow, is your coin. Will you accept it?" He pierced the merchant with a direct look.

  The man snatched the money from the elegant's fingers and shoved Cailin toward him. "Go with your master now, girl," he growled.

  Jovian's nose wrinkled with distaste as Cailin approached him. "The gods, girl! When was the last time you bathed?"