The Memory of Snow (7 page)

Janus nodded.

‘I shall not breathe a word,’ he said.

Marcus clapped him on the back and walked towards the wooden
door. He bent down and moved the stone away from the door, ushering Janus out
in front of him. Janus walked back to the fort with an extra swagger in his
step and Marcus followed him, checking his leather pouch again. He still had
time before the meeting with the Commandant. He still had time to see Aemelia
and give her the gift. And he must return to the temple later for his
initiation.

The two men headed back to the fort, both thinking their own
thoughts about the Mithraic Cult. Marcus saw a figure bundled up in furs
flitting around the market stalls, fingering the jewellery on display and
chatting to the traders. Keeping a respectable distance, was her
slave.          ‘Excuse me, my
friend,’ said Marcus. ‘There is something I need to attend to in the
vicus.’  He broke away from Janus and took the pathway into the village.
Janus watched him walk off and approach the girl at the jewellery stall. He
stood for a minute or so, seeing the body language between the couple and the
dismissal of the slave. Marcus and Aemelia – for that was who Janus knew it was
– disappeared into the crowd, and eventually Janus turned back towards the
fort.

AD 391

‘Aemelia, would you mind if we went somewhere a little less
crowded?’ asked Marcus.    ‘Marcus! I did not expect to see you
here today,’ said Aemelia. ‘But I must say, it is a very pleasant surprise.
Olivia, you are dismissed for the moment. Give me some time with this Prefect;
we have business to discuss.’ A red-headed slave-girl bowed and stepped aside,
holding the basket of goods Aemelia had bought. Marcus nodded at the
slave-girl, and guided Aemelia away from the jewellery stall with a light touch
on her arm.

‘You have a different companion today,’ he said. ‘Where is
Syrus?’

‘Father has use of him elsewhere. I now have Olivia to
protect me.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘The girl is simple. She does what I tell her
to do.’ Marcus laughed.

‘I prefer you to be guarded by Syrus,’ he said. ‘He is a good
man. I can tell. He would never leave you on your own with a soldier.’

‘Syrus was my shadow,’ smiled Aemelia. ‘It was very
inconvenient. Sometimes, I like to be free.’

‘It is good to be free. But you also need to be safe,’
replied Marcus.

‘I have no fear of anybody here!’ cried Aemelia. ‘I do not
need a babysitter. Syrus used to lurk around in the shadows, watching me. He
never let me go far on my own. You know that as well as I do. I would often see
little leaves waving around in the bushes, or hear twigs snapping. It was all
so annoying!’

‘Syrus is a good man,’ laughed Marcus. ‘He would never risk
any harm coming to you. You are too precious. But then, I am pleased Olivia has
left us. You need not fear me.’ He took Aemelia through an alleyway between two
houses and they came out behind the buildings. Aemelia could hear water
trickling gently behind some trees and followed Marcus as he pushed his way
through a gap in the greenery. She gasped in wonder and looked around her

‘Where is this place?’ she asked. ‘I did not know this
existed!’ They were standing in a small garden area. A fountain stood in the
middle of a pebbled square, and statues were dotted around the four edges. It
was too early in the year for flowers, but Aemelia knew that come the summer
months, the place would be a profusion of blooms.

‘Do you like it?’ asked Marcus. ‘It belongs to Aelia and her
sisters. Look; this is the back of their home.’ He pointed to one of the walls
which formed the square. ‘They keep it as a kind of secret place; a trysting
garden, if you like. Only a few people know about it.’ He smiled. ‘I shall
confess that this is not the first time I have visited this place, but it is
the first time I have brought anyone special here.’

‘Am I special?’ asked Aemelia. Feeling bold, she moved
closer. She took his hands in hers. Without taking her eyes off him, she raised
his hands to her lips and kissed them. ‘I hope I am special to you,’ she said.

‘More special than you can imagine, dear Aemelia,’ he
answered. He couldn’t even think about blaming her for missing his initiation
ceremony; he knew he would have done the same again. No, he could only blame
himself for that one. He should have returned to the temple without her later
on. It had been his own fault.

Their hands still together, Marcus drew Aemelia towards him
and returned the kiss; but this time he kissed her on the lips. When they
finally drew apart, Aemelia opened her eyes and smiled up at Marcus.

‘Well, now. That was rather unexpected,’ she said. ‘I think I
like this trysting garden.’ She looked around her again; the colours seemed
less grey, the tinkling of the water more magical then before. ‘I always
thought Coventina’s Well would be our special place,’ she said thoughtfully.
‘It is where we first met, after all.’

‘No, I believe Carrawburgh was our first meeting place,’
smiled Marcus. Aemelia wrinkled her nose.

‘Perhaps. But somewhere like the Well has a far better memory
for me. That is where you first spoke to me. And here; this is where you first
kissed me.’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘I don’t suppose you would like to
do it again?’ she asked.

‘I could easily be convinced,’ murmured Marcus and bent down
to her once more. Aemelia gave herself up to him willingly, knowing that nobody
would disturb them in the garden. She had been attracted to soldiers before, it
was only natural; but Marcus was the first one she had ever felt like this
about. It was like she had come home, like the missing part of her suddenly
slotted into place. But with the realisation came a kind of sorrow. Marcus was
a Pagan, and one of her father’s troops as well. She could see no easy way to
build on this relationship. What sort of future would they have together? She
shook her head to clear her thoughts, trying to dampen them down so she didn’t
spoil the moment for herself.

‘Dear Marcus,’ she whispered and laid her head on his
shoulder, resting it in the crook of his neck. ‘What will become of us, do you
think?’ Marcus lifted his hand and stroked her dark hair. It was thick and
springy beneath his fingers, and he stared out over the garden as he considered
her question.

‘Truthfully, I do not know,’ he said eventually. ‘But I want
you to have something, so whatever happens in the future, you can look at it
and remember me and Carrawburgh and this garden. Would you accept a gift from
me?’ Aemelia pulled away from him.

‘Of course!’ she said. ‘I would be honoured to accept a gift
from you.’

Marcus smiled and opened the leather pouch he had tied around
his waist.

‘I had it made especially,’ he said, smiling at Aemelia. ‘I
hope you like it.’

Marcus put his hand into the pouch and brought out a tiny,
golden ring. Aemelia gasped, the delicately carved item incongruous in his
strong, weather-worn hand. A design had been punched in the ring to form a
string of letters. Aemelia hesitated for a moment, then picked the ring out of
Marcus’ palm. She turned it over and spelled out the letters. AEMELIA ZESES.

‘Aemelia may you live,’ whispered Aemelia. ‘It is beautiful!
And so precious. Thank you!’ She kissed Marcus again. ‘But tell me; why zeses?
That is Greek! You are from the Germanic regions, are you not?’

Marcus nodded.

‘I am from the Germanic regions,’ he said. ‘But my craftsman
friend tried to translate our Latin word vivas into Greek, then back again.’ He
shrugged and suddenly laughed at the thought. ‘I do not know why! But, whatever
he did it for, that is the reason for zeses. I thought you would like it;
doesn’t vivas in deo mean may you live in God? I am hoping that your God will
protect you and help you in all you endeavour to do, as my gods and goddesses
protect me. Go on. Put it on. Just on that delicate, smallest finger of yours.
It is a token of my love for you. I hope you receive it in the spirit in which
it was given.’ He bowed at her solemnly and she giggled. She held up her right
hand and flexed the little finger.

‘Perfect,’ she said. ‘You have an eye for jewellery, Sir. Or
did someone else advise you on what to buy? Your friend Janus, for instance. He
seems to be a popular choice of companion for the ladies in the vicus.’

‘Ah yes, my good friend Janus. No, it was not his idea. But
you are right. The ladies in the vicus look forward to Janus having free time.
If we could stop him gambling, he could spend even more time with them.’

‘Perhaps he gambles to control the hordes?’ suggested
Aemelaia with a smile. ‘If he is gambling, he cannot amuse the ladies.’

‘Very true,’ agreed Marcus. ‘But enough of Janus. I want to
speak of Aemelia.’

‘What do you want to speak to her of?’ teased Aemelia.

‘I just want to know whether she feels the same about me as I
do about her. If I know that, at least I can carry some hope with me into the
future.’

‘She does feel the same,’ whispered Aemelia. ‘But neither of
us knows what the future will hold.’

‘Do you believe that we can change the future?’ asked Marcus,
taking her face in his and running his thumbs down the side of it tenderly.
Aemelia closed her eyes and caught a tiny breath.

‘I don’t know,’ she repeated. ‘But please, let us not spoil
the present with such talk...’ Her words died on her lips as Marcus kissed her
again, more deeply and slowly than before. He drew away eventually.

‘In a few years I will have left the army. Maybe then, if it
is meant to be, our gods will guide us. I can wait,’ he said.

‘As can I,’ whispered Aemelia, and gave herself up to the
moment, driving all thoughts of the future away.

AD 391

The men were arranged in the headquarters ready and waiting
for the Commandant’s address. Marcus had managed to return on time, although he
was aware of Janus looking at him quizzically as the troops lined up in the
principia. In fact, Marcus realised, he wasn’t just looking at him quizzically;
there was something else there as well. A sort of disgust and repulsion was
evident in Janus’ eyes. Janus didn’t agree with their relationship, that much
was clear. Well, Marcus thought, Janus would just have to accept it. Neither he
nor Aemelia had any intention of changing anything. Marcus pressed his lips
together firmly and stood so he was not looking directly at his friend. He
would deal with the fall-out later. The Commandant was heading to the plinth in
the centre of the square anyway. He looked stern and Marcus had a bad feeling
about the news that was to come. Perhaps the First Batavian Cohort were to be
posted elsewhere? Perhaps he was about to be separated from Aemelia? His heart
began to pound as several different scenarios played through his head.

‘Men of the First Batavian Cohort,’ said the Commandant. His voice
was strong and authoritative. ‘I have gathered you together to hear news from
our Emperor, Theodosius.’ His eyes scanned the troops. For a moment, Marcus
felt as if the Commandant’s eyes settled on him, but then, just as swiftly, the
man looked away. ‘In February of this year, our Emperor issued the following
edict - Nemo se hostiis polluat. This outlaws blood sacrifices. It forbids
state officials to worship in a Pagan temple, or else they must face a heavy
fine. My sources advise me that the next step could be to extinguish the
eternal fire in the Temple of Vesta in Rome. Therefore, the Vestal Virgins
would be disbanded. Taking the auspices will be punished – that is, men who
consider the flights of birds to provide omens will no longer be tolerated.
Practicing witchcraft will be punished. Ultimately, it is thought that no one
shall be allowed to go to sanctuaries, walk through temples, or raise his eyes
to statues created by the labour of man.’

Marcus couldn’t help himself. All thoughts of Janus’
disapproval of his relationship with Aemelia fled his mind. He shot a look at
Janus, and saw his friend staring straight back at him. All the men, he would
wager, were thinking the same thing - what would happen to the Mithraic Temple?
To Coventina’s Well? And even the Shrine to the Water Nymphs? To all the
shrines to the domestic gods the villagers worshipped, and to the gods the
soldiers worshipped in the fort?        

The voice of the Commandant droned on about how he believed
the Batavians were sensible men, they would not disappoint him in adopting
these practices should it become law; and how he trusted the men to deal with
the buildings and artefacts in an appropriate way if the occasion demanded it.
All Marcus could think about, was his initiation to Nymphus tonight. What would
happen then? He would have to put his trust in the Pater and in Mithras
himself. It was all he could do.

After the meeting, the men filed away and Janus sought Marcus
out. His shock had given way to fury and his dark eyes blazed with anger and
hatred.

‘What do you understand about this decree?’ spat out Janus.
‘Do you feel the way I do, and the way the rest of the men do?’ Marcus nodded.

‘I do. It is despicable. We are peaceful men, here. We
worship our gods quietly. There is no harm in what we do,’ he said.

Janus threw his sword down with a clatter and glared at it,
as if the sword had been responsible for the decree instead of Theodosius.

‘I wonder, does the good Commandant realise he named his
beloved daughter after one of the most notorious Vestal Virgins?’ Janus said,
still glaring at his sword.  ‘Ha! Does he not realise she was executed
four hundred years ago for having sexual intercourse?’ He looked at Marcus.
‘How would he feel if history repeated itself, I wonder?’

Marcus flushed.

‘I’m sure that won’t be an issue,’ he said coldly. ‘And are
you aware that you are named after the two headed god, also known as Chaos?
Whatever you may think, I am more concerned about the cult than dead Vestal
Virgins. Perhaps I can find out some information tonight. I have a feeling they
will not abandon the temple as easily as the Commandant anticipates.’

‘”They”?’ asked Janus. ‘Should that not be “we”? “We” shall
not abandon the temple easily? You are a part of it, are you not? You are going
to be initiated to nymphus tonight, are you not?’

‘Yes. “We”. I meant “we”, you know I did,’ replied Marcus.
‘Now, please excuse me. I need to get ready. I have much to do before sunset. I
expect the Pater will have some advice tonight for us.’

He nodded a brief farewell to Janus and headed back to his
quarters. Janus was his friend, but at times he felt as if he didn’t know him
very well. The flashes of temper he was wont to display were not one of his
best traits.

‘Understand that my name also reflects the patron of civil
and social order!’ called Janus after him. ‘And unlike some, the god Janus does
not have to watch his back!’

Marcus raised his hand in acknowledgement, but did not turn
back to face him. He hoped that his friend would be sensible, and not do
anything to sabotage either his position or the worship of the neighbourhood
gods. He suppressed his own anger at the insinuations Janus had also made. What
he and Aemelia did or did not do, were nobody’s business but their own. He hadn’t
really thought about the fact she was named after that particular Vestal
Virgin, though. And despite everything else, that image did bring rather an
inappropriate smile to his lips.