Dragon's Child (10 page)

‘Nonsense!’ Gallia retorted, with a martial glint in her eyes. ‘You were always too sweet-natured for your own good, my petal. What decent man could hurt such a lovely girl as you?’

‘I try his patience, Gallia, I really do. He spends most of his days with Severinus and his friends, and what little time he does spend with me puts him out of temper. I wish I knew how to be a good wife to him.’

‘You quicken with his child, don’t you? Caius should be pleased that he will soon become a father.’ The sharpness of Gallia’s voice emphasized the bluntness of her reply.

Two tears trickled down Julanna’s cheeks.

‘I suppose he is proud of me and our marriage, but he never says so,’ Julanna sniffed wetly. ‘I know I’m not very clever, not like you, but . . . but . . . he strikes me when I annoy him. Nothing I do ever seems to be right.’

Privately, Gallia believed that any man who hurt the mother of his child was no man at all, but she kept her opinions to herself.

‘I wish he’d spend more time with me instead of spending it with his fine friends. I don’t believe he loves me at all,’ Julanna wailed.

‘Does he seek out other women?’ Gallia asked practically. Julanna blushed hotly and would not meet her friend’s eyes.

‘There are no women that I know of, but . . .’ Julanna’s voice trailed off miserably.

‘Perhaps he prefers boys,’ Gallia suggested matter-of-factly, a statement that shocked prim little Julanna. ‘No one who knew you could treat you so badly if he was a true man.’

‘Gallia, please, don’t even suggest such a terrible and wicked possibility. I couldn’t bear it if Caius had a male lover, truly I couldn’t.’

‘I’m sorry, my sweet. You know my tongue - always running away with itself. Of course Caius doesn’t have a sexual interest in boys.’

But, privately, Gallia determined to watch Caius closely.

Julanna glowed with happiness at dinner. Gallia had brought her a little clockwork bird in a gilded cage. A golden key wound up the delicate automaton and it whistled in a high treble, while flapping its tiny wings. She could scarcely stop speaking of it.

Caius barely disguised his impatience, while Livinia thanked Gallia with simple dignity. The young master retreated into a prolonged, sullen silence.

When a very tall young man joined the family, Ector introduced him to Gallia as his foster-son.

Artorex saw a tiny, child-like girl with clouds of curly dark hair and eyes that were very sharp and critical. Within a few moments of meeting Gallia, her chatter irritated the steward and he dismissed her as a foolish, trivial prattler. Nothing she said, or did, during that first meal improved his opinion of her.

The next morning, Gallia rose early, flustered the kitchen staff by descending into the cook’s domain to beg a simple meal, and then volunteered to carry a morning tray to her friend. Julanna ate sparingly for she was still wracked with morning sickness, but Gallia had no intention of allowing her friend to submit to a little nausea.

Gallia gazed curiously around the spacious kitchens with the keen interest of a townswoman. A huge brick oven, stoked by a cavernous firebox, dominated the simple, flagged room. Another large brick hearth served to cook any meal, from a whole, roast pig to small delicacies in gravy which simmered in small iron pots hung from brackets over the open fire. A scarred wooden bench dominated much of the room and Gallia realized that this table was the domain of the cook, a small, animated man with a pot belly and wildly gesticulating arms. Servant girls ran to obey his slightest gesture.

Gallia tripped into the organized chaos of the kitchen with scarcely a thought for the commotion she was causing. One plump girl dropped a fish that she was bearing in a basket filled with cut grass, causing the cook to sternly box her ears.

‘Tell me, Master Cook, what will cure Mistress Julanna’s vomiting illness yet nourish her well?’ Gallia asked the worthy servant, who was shocked to be involved in women’s matters.

Frith cackled in her warm corner.

‘Don’t be asking that long-faced bag of rubbish, my lady,’ Frith began. ‘I cared for Mistress Livinia when everyone in the house thought she would die of starvation as she bore the young master. We shall give her cold water, a little dry bread to settle the stomach, some milk with just a taste of honey for strength and then a platter of fruit that is cut small to tempt her. That’ll set the young mistress right.’

‘I thank you,’ Gallia replied with a sunny smile that warmed the old woman. She turned back to the cook. ‘I can’t believe that you would be prepared to let our sweet Julanna suffer. I know you’ll find just the right fruit to tempt her.’

The cook unbent so far as to summon servants to fetch crisp apples from the cold store, some nuts and the blackberries that had been put down in the autumn.

‘You are all so very kind to me,’ Gallia bubbled, and swept away to Julanna’s rooms, bearing her repast.

Julanna was still abed and very miserable.

Undaunted, Gallia coaxed her to drink a little cold water and try a few mouthfuls of fresh, warm bread. She then engaged Julanna with tales of her prospective suitors, and their many faults, until the expectant mother was giggling despite her nauseated stomach.

‘I told my father that if he wanted me to marry a man with a face like a cod, I would drown myself. ’ Gallia giggled as she pressed Julanna to drink her milk. ‘As for the old goat, Preopius, who owns the fleet that trades from Sabrina Aest, I reminded Pater that if he wanted more grandchildren, he’d best find a man capable of siring them.’

‘You are truly wicked, Gallia,’ Julanna laughed. ‘How you dare.’ She found herself nibbling crisp slices of apple. ‘I think I’m hungry after all,’ she said in wonderment.

‘So you must eat every mouthful, and dress warmly, and then we’ll go for a little walk. It will do you good, I’m certain, and it’s far better than remaining within these four walls and dwelling on your fears. Hurry, my dear, else I will be forced to dress you myself. ’

‘How have I survived here without you, my crazy Gallia?’

‘Not very well, it seems, when you’re living in such a paradise as this villa,’ Gallia replied, and tripped out of the door, much pleased with her efforts to cheer her charge.

Julanna was some little time being dressed by her maid, but before the hour was up, well wrapped against any stray winds, she was taken forcibly on a leisurely walk around the villa buildings, surreptitiously followed, at a safe distance, by Gallia’s manservant.

Julanna had never bothered to take much notice of her surroundings at the villa, but now, through Gallia’s joyful interest, she saw the sheep, the placid cows, and the squabbling fowls through freshly opened eyes. The two young women foraged for eggs in the hen house and filled an old basket. Gallia cooed over the lambs - now almost as large as their mothers - and both were fascinated by butter churns, cheese wheels and the huge horses already hard at work ploughing the fields in preparation for planting.

Gnawing on a late carrot, Gallia seemed to find magic in every corner of the villa, for she was city born and bred. Every colour enchanted her, the bronze and scarlet leaves, the high white clouds and the rich brown loam of the fields.

When Julanna began to appear a little tired, Gallia also claimed weariness, so they retraced their steps towards the villa.

In the horse field, Targo and Artorex were practising their swordplay.

Both girls stopped to watch.

‘My!’ Gallia said with a laugh. ‘Your steward is a large young man. And quite handsome, now that I look at him more closely.’

‘Gallia!’ Julanna gasped, quite shocked at the flirtatious eye of her friend.

‘Well, he is, my dear. He has a fine, strong body. And he fights very well, does he not?’

‘Our Artorex?’ Julanna asked vaguely. ‘Yes, I suppose he is quite skilled with weapons, although I can’t see why he wastes his time with so much practice.’

‘Surely as a steward he should be about Lord Ector’s business?’ Gallia asked. Her curiosity was piqued by Artorex’s odd, ambiguous position at the Villa Poppinidii.

‘Well, he’s not exactly a steward, although he very well might become one in time. He is Ector’s foster-son and, if you believe the gossip of the servants, his patron is Lucius of Glastonbury.’

‘The Christian priest? Does Artorex follow the teachings of the Nazarene?’

‘I don’t know, for he’s never expressed an opinion one way or another. But he is treated with much favour by the great ones who come at intervals to check on his progress.’

‘How strange,’ Gallia muttered under her breath and sucked the knuckle of her thumb, a habit from childhood that signified she was thinking hard.

‘Now that I come to think of them, the prophecies of that wise woman, Morgan, were truly quite odd. She seemed to imply that Artorex was destined by the fates for some future greatness,’ Julanna continued, her fine brow furrowed in unusual concentration.

‘You must tell me everything, Julanna. I find I’m agog with curiosity,’ Gallia chirped eagerly, and whisked her charge away to her quarters.

As Julanna began to spin fine wool, Gallia set up her loom to weave the delicate yarn into a soft web to be made into clothing for the baby. As they worked, Julanna told Gallia all that she could remember of Morgan’s prophecy.

Gallia was unusually quiet as she digested Julanna’s tale.

When Lady Livinia found the two young ladies before the noon meal, both dark heads were close together and they were working diligently, as good girls should. Livinia was pleased to notice that Julanna’s face was quite rosy with health and her timid smile was wider and more unforced than usual.

‘The girl might talk incessantly, but she is good for Julanna. I am glad she will be here until the babe is born,’ she told Ector as he checked the farm inventory with Cletus.

The steward seemed to be breathing more easily in the cooler air.

‘She’s an engaging little thing but I wager she could be quite a handful,’ Ector replied distractedly. ‘I’m told she has her father wrapped around her little finger.’

‘Gallicus has five strong sons, so he can afford to indulge her. Still, I cannot help but like her,’ Livinia decided.

Caius, on the other hand, did not like Gallia at all.

He had risen in the afternoon and strode into his wife’s quarters in a surly mood to find the two young women together.

‘What do you make, wife?’ he demanded impatiently.

Julanna was immediately reduced to incoherence, but she was saved further embarrassment by Gallia’s neat intervention.

‘She’s making the woollen wrappings for your new child, Master Caius. See? Your wife spins the finest yarn imaginable. The wool is as light as thistledown when it is woven on the loom.’

Caius grunted in disdain.

‘Will you be with us this evening, husband?’ Julanna asked timidly.

‘No. Severinus expects me to attend his feast,’ Caius retorted rudely.

‘Oh! I had hoped that we would see more of you, now that Gallia is here.’

‘The gossip of women is of little interest to me,’ Caius snapped. ‘I’ve better ways to spend my evening.’

‘Of course, husband,’ Julanna replied soothingly.

‘Of course! Of course! Of course!’ Caius mimicked her cruelly. ‘Can’t you speak of anything but babies and weaving?’

‘You asked the question, sir,’ Gallia replied, tossing her head high, her amber eyes cold with disdain as they met Caius’s stare unflinchingly.

Julanna tried to hide the tears that filled her eyes.

‘Your wife is not well, Master Caius. Surely she means more to you than a mere feast?’

Gallia knew she had gone too far, but the young master was insufferable in his arrogance, and some devil in her nature encouraged her to tweak his unbearable superiority.

Caius flushed unbecomingly and his mouth drew down in a scowl of contempt.

‘It is obvious to me that your father has not schooled you to know when to speak, young woman, and when to be silent.’

By now, Caius was having difficulty controlling his anger, as his twitching fingers attested.

Gallia lifted her determined chin to show that she was not intimidated.

‘If I have caused any offence, then I beg your forgiveness, Master Caius. But Julanna is not well and she pines for your attention.’

‘Well, she will have to pine alone,’ Caius snarled, and swept out of the room to take his bad temper out on any hapless servant who crossed his path.

‘Oh, Gallia, how do you dare to upset him?’ Julanna breathed, quite amazed by her friend’s composure.

‘Him? I will not say anything against your husband, dearest, but I would dearly love to box his ears. He behaves like a spoiled child.’

‘But he’s the master’s only son and he’ll be the paterfamilias when Ector is dead.’ Julanna appeared quite terrified at the prospect.

‘He’s a bully, and I won’t permit him to frighten you - and that’s the end of it!’

‘I’m so glad you have come to stay, Gallia.’

‘Hummph!’ was Gallia’s only response.

That afternoon, when Julanna had retired to her bed to rest, Gallia decided to explore the Villa Poppinidii in earnest. Followed by her manservant, and completely oblivious to the stares of the field workers, she trudged through the acres of grain to the open paddocks where flowers grew in profusion near the edge of the forest. As she plucked a posy for her friend, her quest drew her closer to the deeper shadows surrounding the great oaks.

‘You would do well to stay clear of the woods, Lady Gallia,’ a curt voice intruded into her thoughts.

Gallia barely suppressed a flinch of surprise.

Turning, with the skirts of her peplum full of wild blooms, she was forced to look up at the smiling face of the steward mounted on a large black stallion.

‘You startled me, Master Steward. My mind was elsewhere, I’m afraid. Are these woods so dangerous?’