The Sign of the Eagle by Jess Steven Hughes

Author:Jess Steven Hughes
Format: epub
Publisher: Sunbury Press, Inc.
Published: 2012-05-27T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

The Sacred Order of Vesta

The following morning Macha sat peacefully in the garden with Shafer. At the far end a slave splashed water from a bucket on a row of budding lilies. Nearby, clippers snapped as another worker trimmed a box shrub.

Macha closed her eyes and tilted her head, welcoming the warmth of the spring sun on her tired face. Although Shafer and she had returned home exhausted after witnessing Crixus’ interrogation and had taken a bath, Macha slept poorly. She relived last night’s horrors in the torture chamber.

When she managed to push the awful scenes from her mind, thoughts of young Titus’s kidnapping flooded her head. She agonized over his possible treatment, and prayed the thugs hadn’t injured him. Perhaps she should have stayed in Mediolanum. But she refused to languish there doing nothing so long as Titus was imprisoned. At her urging, Bassus sent a message to the Commander of the Watch to begin a search for her son. But the city was so big, nearly one-million souls, and there were so many places where her son could be hidden. Hundreds of caves honeycombed the hills on which the Imperial capital was built—an ideal place to hide. She prayed Mother Goddess the bucket men would be successful.

Those thoughts had rolled through her mind a dozen times since awakening. Would they never stop? She needed to calm herself and keep the ugly images under control if she were to help Titus and Bassus. What more could she do? Bassus’ intercession allowed her to question Crixus in the torture chamber. To her knowledge, no woman had been allowed that right before. She considered herself fortunate the Senator had not sent her back to his house, escorted by a detail from the Watch.

The garrison of Mediolanum was searching for her son, but he could be any place in Italy, including Rome. Gods forbid if the kidnappers carried him to Gaul or worse, Germania, and sold him as a slave to the barbarians, but Macha doubted they were that stupid. She prayed he would be ransomed instead.

Would the abductors be bold enough to bring him to the city? Macha tossed aside the idea as being absurd. Still she had to consider the possibility he was closer to Rome than Mediolanum.

Shafer rose to her feet. “Mistress, Lord Bassus is here.”

Immediately, Macha cleared her mind and rubbed her eyes. She glanced to the garden’s entrance and spied Bassus approaching at a brisk pace, his face pinched and eyes narrowed. He wore a Legate’s uniform and a scarlet-plumed helmet.

Shafer bowed. Macha started to rise, but Bassus motioned her to remain seated. He halted before her marble bench and removed his helmet.

“I have received orders from Vespasian to sail to Misenum,” Bassus said. He looked down at Macha, frowning.

Macha sat straighter, her senses now fully alert. “My gods, Titus is to be court-martialed in ten days. Will you return in time?”

“I’ll make it a point to be here, but even if I sail from Ostia this afternoon, the earliest I can return is five days.

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