Chapter 5
I was pulled from my sleep by Betrys’ servant girl who jostled me awake, threw my cloak to me, and told me to hurry. I was led back through the house and out into the small courtyard—now crowded with men lit with the glow of flickering torches. Several were kneeling around something shapeless on the tiles and as I approached, a way opened for me. The onlookers parted and I saw a man lying on a pallet. Closer, I saw two things: the man’s tunic was sodden with an ugly dark stain and the man was my father.
I gave out a little cry and rushed to him. He saw me and struggled up onto an elbow. “Aurelia,” he said, wincing with pain. “Aurelia, my love. There is nothing to fear.”
“You’re bleeding!” I gasped. “What happened?”
Before he could reply, I felt strong hands on me and a stern voice loud in my ear. I was all but lifted out of the way. “Step aside. The physician is here.”
A man pushed forward and took my place beside the pallet. He knelt, gently felt the sodden clothing, and spoke to my father in low tones. Then, rising, he turned and said, “Take him into the house. And bring some light.” To those standing around, he said, “Go on . . . go on. Make way.”
The pallet was taken up and carried inside, and I was left standing in the courtyard with the others who all began talking at once. I could make nothing of the babble of voices. “What happened?” I demanded, pulling on the sleeve of the man nearest. “What happened?”
One of those who had helped bring him back replied, “There was an attack. That’s all I know.”
An attack! My mind went blank. I tried to think what this meant. My father . . . an attack . . . My eyes welled up and my hands flew to my mouth. “I don’t understand. You say my father was attacked?”
“That’s your father?” Another man regarded me for a moment, then said, “I only know what I heard. The proconsul’s party was returning to town and they were ambushed by thieves on the road. Proconsul Esico and two others were killed, and three more were wounded—including your father. The raiders were driven off by some of the procurator’s soldiers who came upon them shortly after the attack.”
“But they survived,” I insisted, my voice shaking with fear. “They all survived. . . .”
“Did you hear me? I said Proconsul Esico is dead—and two of his men. Your father is one of the lucky ones. He’s alive.”
I started for the house. “I must go to him.”
The man put out a hand and grabbed my arm. “Stay here. Don’t get in the way.”
“My father needs me!” I said, my voice pinched with pleading. Several of those standing near glanced my way. “I have to be there.”
“You will. Soon,” he told me. “Not now. Let Lucius work.”
He pulled me a littler further away. As we turned, I thought I heard someone utter the word Saecsen.
“Is that right?” I asked. “Was it Saecsens?”
“Most likely. They made off with the horses and weapons—that’s what they do.” His voice grew thick with derision. “Barbarians.” The word was a curse in his mouth.
I looked to the door where people clustered around the entrance. “I’m going in.”
Before he could prevent me again, I dashed forward and plowed through the onlookers. My father lay just inside the vestibule. His eyes were closed and his jaw tightly clenched. Lucius, the physician, knelt beside him with two small oil lamps to light his work. The top half of my father’s mantle had been cut away to reveal a gash in his side—a narrow wound, raw, ragged, oozing blood in the lambent glow of the lamp. Lucius dipped a roll of cloth into a bowl of vinegar water and gently dabbed the blood-stained flesh to wash it. I watched how patiently, how carefully he applied the astringent. Satisfied that the wound was clean, Lucius took up a thin bronze needle attached to a thread-like length of catgut and, with studied precision, began drawing the ragged edges of flesh together. Tullius moaned as the needle pierced the severed flesh; he put his arm across his face as the needle bit into him time and again.
Appalled by the sight, I gasped aloud. I could not help it. I put my hand over my mouth. Lucius paused and glanced back over his shoulder, saw me, and said, “Go away!”
I fell back a step—still staring at the horrendous sight of that awful gash.
“Someone get her out of here,” the physician snapped.
I fled the room. What else could I do?
The others were watching from the doorway. Rather than face them again, I made for my room, brushing by Betrys on the way. The kindly woman stood in the passageway, distraught, wringing her hands. “Oh, Aurelia. I’m so sorry.” She shook her gray head. “So sorry. That this had to happen . . .”
“Just leave me alone!” I mumbled, and hurried on.
“Yes, yes,” she called after me. “You go lie down and I will come for you when the physician is finished.”
I rushed to my room, slammed the door, and threw myself onto the bed where I lay staring up into the darkness—now heavy, pressing down on me like a dead hand. Though I did not want to imagine the worst, all I could think was: What if my father doesn’t recover? What if he dies?
I lay there thinking and the tears came. Again—for the second time that day!
I wept in the darkness, inconsolable. I must have cried myself to sleep, because the next thing I knew Betrys was leaning over me and speaking. I opened my eyes and turned my head to better hear her. “He’s asking for you.” I sat up. “Your father’s awake. He wants to see you.”
Throwing aside the thin woolen coverlet, I leapt out of bed and following Betrys across the dark courtyard to my father’s bedside. They had carried his pallet to the dining room and placed it on a low bedframe near the hearth where it was warmest. He raised his head and held out his hand as I came into the room. I knelt beside him on the stone floor and glanced down at his injured side. “Does it hurt very much?”
“Lucius gave me a tincture for the pain—opium, I think,” he said, his voice rough but steady. He raised a little glass bottle of milky liquid. “It helps, but I think I could use a little more—perhaps an entire lake.” He smiled and something of his usual humor returned, though his color remained pale gray. “Well, here we are, eh?”
“What can I get for you?” I asked. “Tell me what you need.”
He swallowed hard and said, “Aurelia, listen to me carefully. I am wounded and in pain. Lucius tells me that I must remain in bed for a day or two, and let the stitches settle and heal. I’m afraid this means I cannot attend the conclave—”
“Of course not,” I agreed quickly. “You must do all you can to get better.”
“And I will,” he assured me. “But it means you are going to have to attend the conclave for me.”
“No!” I reared back. “I can’t.”
He countered my refusal with a wave of his hand. “Yes, dear heart, you can,” he said, his voice hardening. “You must be my eyes and ears there. I need to know everything that happens. Venta is depending on it. Otherwise, we came here for nothing.”
“Father, please, no,” I managed. “It’s too much. I don’t know what to do. I can’t—”
“I need you there, Aurelia.”
Horrified, I stared at him.
“You can do it, Aurelia,” he insisted. “I know you can. You’re stronger than you feel.”
“Don’t make me . . .”
“I will depute you to stand in my stead. You will attend and report back to me—everything you see and hear. I trust you.”
Oh, yes, I thought. Trust a deaf girl to be your ears at the most important conclave ever. “Trust me? Proconsul Esico might have something to say about that,” I pointed out. “He will not look kindly on an unlearned deaf girl attending his great—” I realized what I was saying and stopped.
“Esico is dead. Did they not tell you?”
I nodded. “I forgot. But, what about Coran?” I suggested. “He’s the proconsul’s assistant. He can go—” The pitying expression on my father’s face brought me up short.
“Aurelia,” he said softly. “Coran was killed in the raid.”
“Not Coran . . . ” Though I detested the fellow, a queer feeling shivered through me. How could he be dead when I only saw him a day or so ago?
“Listen to me, Aurelia.” Tullius raised his voice so I would not miss what he was saying, and I could see the strain in his eyes and the cords standing out on his neck. “Concentrate, now. This is important. Until I am strong enough to resume my duties, you are going to have to do a great many things you’d rather not. But you’re going to do them—for me, and for the people of Venta. Someone must be there for us.”
I accepted what he was saying, but desperately tried to think of another way, any other way. Something akin to panic began to rise within me as the full weight of responsibility began to settle upon me.
“I need to know that you will do whatever I ask.”
I nodded, relenting at last.
“Say it.”
“I’ll do it—whatever you ask.”
“For me and for the folk of Venta.”
“For you and for Venta.”
“Then all is well.” He closed his eyes and his features relaxed. I saw how much our talk had taxed him and how very fragile was his strength. “I knew I could trust you, Aurelia.” I barely caught this last as his voice fell. “Ahh,” he sighed. “I’ll sleep now . . . a little. . . .”
I waited a moment, but he said no more. He sank into sleep almost at once. There was nothing to be done, so I rose and crept silently away.