"Oh, a prophecy! Well. . And who gave you this?"
"She. ."
"Oh! A she!" Vipsania interrupted tartly.
"She called herself Pallas Athene."
"I thought you didn't believe in the Gods?" a bemused Vipsania said.
"It was rather weird," Gaius said. "It was a sort of a dream, when I went to sleep at a temple to Athene. ."
"You went to sleep in a temple. That shows strong belief! And what did this prophecy say?"
"It said quite a bit, some of which has come to pass. The fact that there's a lot more to come means I can't die yet."
"I wouldn't bet on that too much," Vipsania sighed. "Tell me something about this prophecy to convince me."
"The woman in my life," Gaius said simply, then realized he was being a little sparing with the truth, "would be absolutely beautiful."
"Flattering," Vipsania replied, "but not exactly definitive."
"Further, Athene said I would ignore her. Recall what happened at the bridge?"
"But that's. ." She found that she did not know how to continue.
"I've actually mentioned this prophecy to Little Boots before. In the invitation to him, I should add that you have been clearly identified by Athene, and I must fulfil my part of that aspect of the prophecy."
"You think that'll do any good?"
"One other part of the prophecy was that my legion would be the most loyal of all," Gaius explained. "I have already told Caesar that, and hopefully Caesar will let that part of the prophecy run."
"Well," Vipsania said in a tone of almost total disbelief. "Aren't I the lucky one, attached to one blessed by the Gods!"
It was only later that Gaius realized that she might be cursed. There were to be two women in his life. Well, the ugliest of all could definitely be put off until later, and in any case, the prophecy said nothing about that one being his wife.
Chapter 11
Slave's day: the day of the Saturnalia when everything was turned upside down. For this one day in a year the slaves played the role of masters, and the masters served the slaves. Because there was always tomorrow, the slaves tried to make their points with good humour. On the other hand, they were reasonably safe because a master who later beat a slave for something that others had laughed at would at the least lose so much face he would regret doing so for a very long time.
When Gaius arrived, he was greeted by Vipsania. As she remarked, today there were no slaves to open doors, or do anything else, for that matter. Their absence, however, did let Gaius get a quick kiss before he entered. As he expected, he soon noticed one of the slaves dressed up in military attire, and on closer inspection, he saw it was the young man who had run into his cart. As he said to Vipsania, he now had some idea of what was likely to come.
He had to hang up his own cloak, then he returned to the main room, where the slaves were gathered around a fire.
"A poor fire!" one of the slaves said loudly. "It needs more wood."
"Yes, Master," Vipsania's father said, and put the last of the wood on the fire.
"You!" another said, pointing to Gaius. "Refill the box, and make sure there's enough to last all day."
"Yes, Master!" Gaius bowed. He smiled to himself as he went back collect his cloak. He went to the back door, wrapped himself up, and headed to where he suspected the woodshed was. As he suspected, the large number of footprints in the snow did not go to the woodshed. The slaves had carefully set him up, for the largest number of footprints seemed to disappear down a path that went over a rise. Nevertheless, someone must have used the woodshed that morning. He looked carefully around, and there were tracks, almost concealed by the fresh snow, and he followed those. There was the woodshed.
He looked around the woodshed, and saw that there was adequate wood cut for the day, but only just. That was definitely a hint, so Gaius shrugged and took an axe. He looked at the edge, and as expected, it was probably an old axe, and it was rather blunt. He took it to the stone, and spent some time sharpening it, then he took it back to the selection of logs, pulled one out, and after hanging up his cloak he began swinging.
The work kept him warm and, for a while at least, it was quite pleasant to be in this rustic shed. The floor was liberally covered with wood chips, and he felt that these somehow kept the shed a little warmer than outside. The rough-hewn logs that comprised the outside wall gave the shed a feeling of solidity; it might be snowing outside, and the roof might be carrying quite a weight, but these small trees would hold it. The steeply sloping roof above also gave him a feeling of both safety, for not too much snow would be able to lie there without rolling off, but also of nervous sanctuary. All sorts of things could be living up there, for at the top it was so dark that he could see nothing, and he was sure there were bats, maybe blood-sucking bats. Still, there were no skeletons on the floor, so, keep chopping! He had quickly achieved the rhythmic swing, with the power coming through the entire upper body. One of the problems with being a Legate was that there was a tendency to become relatively unfit, or alternatively fitness resided in the legs and lungs. These were good to have, but the difference between life and death came from strength in the upper body, the arms and the shoulders. He was only too well aware that getting on the wrong side of Little Boots could well mean that either this was his last winter, or he could have to use all his skills at fighting and evasion.
Outside, the snow was falling more heavily, visibility was lower, and the view was now of almost uniformly grey-white. Even the villa was a barely discernible grey shadow against the lighter grey background. From there, the woodshed would be invisible, and this whiteout, he reflected wryly, might be starting to worry some of the slaves. Since he had not known where the woodshed was, and if he had followed the main line of footprints as they might have expected, he might be lost. As he kept chopping, he felt rather pleased with himself that the pile was becoming reasonably impressive, and of course there was nothing like having the slaves get a little worried with their new authority.
Chopping should clear the mind, and it did, until thoughts of Little Boots came to the fore. They made him angry, which lead him to chop more vigorously. It seemed wrong that here, on Saturnalia, his first real Saturnalia since he had left the estate to go to Capri, he had to spend all his efforts wondering how to keep the woman he loved out of the hands of a little boot.
After an hour, a good heap of wood lay against the wall. Gaius leaned back against a post away from the door and realized he was becoming thirsty. He was beginning to wonder whether he should go back inside, when a snow covered shape charged into the shed, gave a cursory look around, then swore quietly.
"Looking for someone?" Gaius asked, from the shadows of the corner.
The slave jumped a little, turned, and then said, with a great effort to disguise a considerable amount of relief, "Oh! There you are."
"Is that enough?" Gaius asked, a little pleased now that he had stayed. Clearly there had been concern, and this slave had no desire to be trudging around in the snow looking for him.
The slave glanced at the heap of wood for the first time and gave a start. He recovered quickly and nodded, "That'll do. We've got to go back inside. They're waiting for you."
Gaius nodded, and decided to fill a basket with wood. There was little doubt he would be back out here, so he might as well take as much as he could carry, to reduce the number of visits.
Gaius dumped the load of wood beside the firebox, took his cloak back to the pegs, then came back into the big room and looked around. The slaves had surveyed the scene and ensured they could afford to enjoy themselves. At last all the 'masters' were present, currently seated before the carefully prepared stage and ready for the day, and more to the point, were in reasonably good spirits. The slaves were now confident enough to take full control.