Armed with a stink that kept even the locals from crowding in too close, Nicole passed the baths and came in sight of the open space of the market square. She stopped, and gasped.
The space was larger, much larger, than it had ever been before. It opened to the north and west, openness in shades of black, the charred ruins of the fire that she’d heard but not seen on the first day of the sack. Houses and shops and a handful of four- and five-story apartment buildings were flattened, burned to the ground.
Romans and Germans, their clothes and hides black with soot, sifted through the wreckage. Some of the Romans were probably trying to salvage what they could from the disaster. Many must have been thieves – as were all of the Germans.
When a Roman found something he was looking for, he slipped it into a pouch or hid it somewhere on his person, as quickly and unobtrusively as possible. When a German found a coin or a ring or anything of value, he held it up and crowed over it. He didn’t care who saw him, or worry that someone else might take his prize away from him.
Nicole shook her head at the fortunes of war, and ventured into the market. Most of the largest stalls were empty, their keepers dead or robbed or simply lying low. The Germans helped themselves to whatever struck their fancy. She watched a barbarian walk away from a sausage-seller gnawing on a length of garlicky stuff he hadn’t paid for. Like the stonecutter, the merchant could only look unhappy. There wouldn’t be a revolt here, not while the Germans were large and strong and trained to fight, and the locals were smaller, weaker, and inclined to leave the fighting to professionals.
Nicole bought a length of sausage for herself. She didn’t have to haggle much to get a good price, rather to her surprise. “You’re only the third person today with money to spend,” the sausage-seller told her. “I’m happy to see any brass at all.”
With the sausage stowed away in her bag, she bought a sack of beans and a sack of peas, and filled another sack with lettuce and onions and cucumbers. That was as much as she could carry. There wasn’t any wine, as she’d fully expected.
Loaded down with her purchases but still trusting to her rape repellent, she left the market with relief. While she’d been busy shopping, she hadn’t taken time to notice the way the Germans eyed the women who’d ventured out to market. Once she was done, as she turned toward home, she grew all too well aware of it: long raking glances, and looks that stripped a woman bare and had their will of her. They didn’t actually drag anybody down and line up for the fun, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t do it, or wouldn’t. The sooner she was out of their sight, the better. Her ears burned. She couldn’t move nearly fast enough, burdened as she was; she had to keep to a slower pace.
It felt like a crawl. To these bastards she was meat, nothing more, as free for the taking as a sausage or a sack of barley. If one of them decided to have fun with her, and never mind the stink that surrounded her, she couldn’t stop him. Not if she wanted to stay alive.
As it happened, no one touched her or accosted her. She made it home without undue trouble, and set down her burden of sacks and bags with a sigh of relief.
Julia wasn’t any less relieved than Nicole was. “Mistress!” she said. “You got away with it.”
That was pretty much how Nicole felt, but she wasn’t about to let Julia know it. “We have to eat,” she said. “We can go without a lot of things, but not food.” And if Julia knew exactly how much Nicole was going without, she’d never believe it.
“I just hope there’s food to be had,” Julia said. “The gods only know what the barbarians have done to the farmers outside the city – the ones who didn’t die of the pestilence, that is.”
“If they want money, they’ll have to bring crops into town,” Nicole said. Julia nodded, but she still looked worried. She wasn’t the only one. In all the hard times Nicole had back in the United States, she’d never missed a meal, or even come close. Going hungry because there was no food was something she’d seen on the news, flashed into her living room by satellite from somewhere else. That it could happen to her… With all the horrors she’d seen since she came to Carnuntum, she was a fool if she thought she’d be immune to any of them. She had to plan ahead. If she could lay in a supply, she’d better do it soon. And not just for herself, either. For Lucius – because if he starved to death, all his future died with him, and Nicole with it.
Later that afternoon, Brigomarus came by: his first visit since the city fell. Nicole couldn’t really fault him for taking this long to do his brotherly duty. She hadn’t exactly taken pains to make sure he was all right, either. When he was well past the door and within smelling distance of the bar, he sniffed and nearly gagged. “Phew! Smells like somebody dumped a pisspot in here.”
“That’s how it’s supposed to smell,” Nicole answered tartly. “It keeps the Germans away.”
“Keeps the customers away, too, I shouldn’t wonder,” Umma’s brother said.
“Customers are the least of my worries right now,” Nicole shot back.
“Really? ‘ Brigomarus raised an eyebrow. “I would have thought your family was the least of your worries. Didn’t you even stop to wonder if Tabica and I were alive?”
Nicole had a perfectly good excuse, and she didn’t hesitate to use it: “Today was the first time I’d even gone to the market square. I don’t go out if I can help it. If Tabica is doing anything different, she’s a fool.”
He chewed on that for a while, frowning. Then he nodded. She was supposed to be grateful, obviously, that he, the mighty male, had come round to her way of thinking. He wasn’t any different from a German, when you got down to it.
At least he wouldn’t hack her head off for talking back to him, though he might try to bite it off. “All right,” he said ungraciously. “Tabica’s staying in, yes. Now let it go. I didn’t come over to start the fight again.”
“No?” Nicole inquired. “It sure seemed that way.”
“I said I didn’t.” He scowled. After all this time, he still wasn’t used to backtalk from someone he recognized as his sister. “What do you want from me?”
“An apology would be nice,” Nicole said.
Now he stared. So did Julia. Nicole knew she was pushing it, but she didn’t care. If Brigomarus didn’t want to play by her rules, she was perfectly willing and able to have nothing more to do with him. It had taken her a while, but she’d come to realize just how much leverage that gave her. She really didn’t care – and he did. Desperately. As far as he knew, she was family. As she very well knew, she wasn’t. What mattered greatly to him meant nothing to her.
She held all the power. He might not understand it, but he knew it. Therefore, with bad grace, he yielded. “I’m sorry,” he said, doing a better job of it than Lucius might have, but not much. “I’m glad you’re safe here.” That sounded a little more as if he meant it.
“Safe?” Nicole’s laugh had a raw edge. She saw in her mind Antonina turned into a toy, a thing, for the amusement of any barbarian who happened to wander down the street. She knew how easily that could have happened to Julia, or to her. She saw Antonina’s husband, too, with the side of his head smashed in and blood puddled in the street, soaking into the dirt. “We’re not safe. It’s just that nothing horrible has happened to us yet.”
Brigomarus didn’t like that anymore than anything else she’d said, but he was an honest man, on the whole. He nodded. “I see. Anything can happen to any of us, any time. And there’s nothing we can do about it.” He paused. “I suppose… it must be worse for a woman.”
Nicole and Julia exchanged glances. Amazing, Nicole thought. He sees it. He actually sees it.