Authors: Kevin Ashman
Mortuus Virgo (41 page)
Bernice placed the beacon on the bed.
‘Who is Murray?’ she asked.
‘Long story,’ said Brandon, picking up his gun. ‘Now, show me this locked door you told me about.’
‘What do you need that for?’ she asked.
‘There are guards everywhere,’ said Brandon, ‘If we are seen, I don’t want them thinking you helped me. At least this way, they will think you have been forced.’
‘Okay,’ said Bernice, ‘Let’s get this over with.
----
They made their way down through the corridors and towards the hall without meeting anyone. Bernice opened the doors and made her way quickly towards the carving of the Holy Mother. She quickly ran her hands over the carving again, searching for the release switch she knew had to be there.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Brandon.
‘I don’t know how it opens,’ she said.
‘Are you sure it is a door?’
‘Yes, I saw it open earlier on.’
‘How did they do it.?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Let me see.’
Bernice allowed Brandon to replace her and he stood in front of the carving in silence.
‘Explain what you saw, exactly,’ he said.
‘Sister Agnes stood in front of the Holy Mother in veneration and the door seemed to open by itself.’
‘Explain veneration.’
‘She held out her arms in the shape of the crucifix.’
‘Like this?’ asked Brandon, stretching out his arms.
‘Yes,’ answered Bernice.
Brandon’s arms couldn’t stretch to their full extent as they each met the reveals of the alcove on either side.
‘I wonder,’ he said and gave a push with each hand.
The panel on each side clicked and the carving in front of him slid to one side.
‘Bingo,’ he said, staring down the corridor to his front.
Bernice looked over his shoulder and into the dim corridor. This was no ordinary passage but a tunnel carved out of solid rock, the scars of ancient tools still visible on either side where it had been worked to make it wider.
Come on said Brandon. Let’s take a look. He walked slowly forward, his gun held down at his waist, ready to be pulled into the aim at a second’s notice. As soon as they entered the corridor, the sliding door closed behind them with a click, and they walked forward nervously.
Ten metres in, they passed a single doorway cut into the right hand corridor wall and though the door had no lock, Brandon could see it could be secured from the outside by a large metal bolt that slid across the door and into the rock reveal. At the far end they could see another door, though this one had a lock.
‘Your friend must be in there,’ said Brandon, ‘Where does it lead?’
‘I have no idea,’ said Bernice, ‘But I have a bad feeling about this. There should be no secrets within the order.’
Brandon fingered his trigger nervously and tried the door handle. As expected, it was locked, but after a moment’s pause, Bernice produced her keys and gave them to Brandon. He tried a few before hearing a satisfying click, and, after a brief glance towards Bernice, eased the door slowly away from him.
Immediately, a breath of warmth hit him and he eased his way sideways through the tiny gap, closely followed by Bernice. They both took one step beyond the doorway before pausing to stare at the scene below them in awe.
In front of them was a stairway leading down to the floor of a cavern the size of a large church, warmly illuminated by hundreds of candles. At the centre of the cavern, a fire burned brightly in a pit sunk into the rocky floor, helping the candles to send flickering shadows around the cave. Leading away from the doorway, in either direction, a landing followed the walls of the cave, stopping about halfway around, providing a good view of the entire cavern. A one metre dwarf wall edged the landing, providing a natural barrier from the drop to the floor below.
Brandon and Sister Bernice crouched down behind the perimeter wall and peered into the cavern.
‘Is that your colleague?’ whispered Brandon, indicating a lone figure near one of the walls.
‘Yes,’ said Bernice. Sister Agnes was replenishing candles in the hundreds of tiny alcoves cut into the walls.
Brandon looked down into the cavern, taking in all the detail. There were several doors sunk into the rocky walls, each closed tight and secured with a locking bar slid into the frames. At the far end, and half way up the wall, a small wooden balcony extended into the cavern from an arch cut into the rock, and a small wooden stairway descended to the floor.
‘What is this place?’ he whispered.
‘I have no idea,’ she said.
‘Some sort of hidden Temple?’ suggested Brandon.
‘It would seem so,’ said Bernice, but why, I don’t know.’
Down on the cavern floor, Sister Agnes finished her task and started to collect her things.
‘Come on,’ said Brandon, ‘Let’s get out of here before we are seen. I need to find out what we are dealing with here. Do you know where I can find any paperwork like records or anything?’
‘That room we passed looked like some sort of office back in the corridor,’ said Bernice, ‘You could look there, I suppose.’
‘Perfect,’ said Brandon, Let’s go.’
They walked back down the corridor and stopped outside the barred door.
‘I don’t think this is an office,’ said Brandon, there’s a locking bar on the outside, ‘Why would there be a need to lock someone inside an office.’
‘Probably used to be a cell,’ said Bernice, ‘My own cell is exactly the same. Worth a look, though.’
Brandon slid back the bar and stepped inside. Immediately he could see the room was empty except for a few items of basic furniture. He wandered around, looking for anything that may be of interest. Suddenly the door slammed shut and he heard the sound of the locking bar being slid home on the outside. He ran to the door and pulled on the handle, but to no avail.
‘Bernice, what do you think your doing?’ he shouted through the locked door.
‘I’m sorry,’ said the Nun’s muffled voice from the other side of the door, ‘I don’t know what is going on here, but as far as I can see, you seem to be part of it.’
‘Let me out,’ said Brandon urgently, ‘Can’t you see, I am trying to help?’
‘You may well be,’ said Bernice, ‘But too much is happening for me to take in. It’s better you stay in there until I can make sense of all this.’
‘Bernice, don’t be stupid,’ hissed Brandon, ‘You are in terrible danger, we all are. You have to let me out before it’s too late.’
‘Sorry, Brandon, she replied, ‘But it’s better this way. I won’t be long, I promise.’
He heard the sound of her echoing footsteps rushing back down the passageway towards the main hall and walked over to sit on the ancient chair in the corner, at a loss as to what do next.
----
Britannia 65AD
Dragus stood at the back of the cave they had called home for the last few months. All smell of the pigs had gone and the cave was sub divided by walls of interweaved willow for privacy. Rubria had her own large space as befitted her position whilst Dragus and Rose each had their own, smaller stalls, though most nights saw Rose creeping into Dragus’s bed space when Rubria was sleeping. The Centurion and the slave had grown close over the last few months and despite the obvious physical benefits, had come to realise they had feelings for each other.
‘Soup?’ asked Rose, walking up to him with an iron tankard containing a hearty broth.
‘Thanks,’ he said, and nodded towards Rubria’s stall. ‘How is she?’
‘As good as can be expected,’ she said, ‘Seems to have come to terms with it at last.’
Not long after moving into the cave Rubria had realised what was happening to her body and at first found the idea repugnant and went into denial. However, when it became obvious and there was nothing she could do about it, she became resigned to the idea and started to make the cave as comfortable as possible for the baby’s arrival.
‘Has she said who the father is?’ asked Dragus.
‘She hasn’t said anything, except she has lain with no man voluntarily.’
‘Then my worst fears are confirmed, the child’s father must be Nero.
‘By the Gods, Dragus,’ said Rose, ‘Do you realise what you are saying? Because, if that is the case, then it is no ordinary baby in her womb, but the child of an Emperor. If it is born male, he would be the firstborn heir to Nero and be the rightful successor to the most powerful role in the world. If Nero found out he had a son he would scour the far corners of the earth to bring him back to Rome.’
‘That’s if his enemies didn’t find him first,’ said Dragus, ‘They would be just as keen to find any heir, though their motives would be far different, I fear.’
‘Then that’s it, said Rose, ‘Eventually the truth will come out and as soon as it does, our fate will be sealed.’
‘Then we have to get from here,’ said Dragus, ‘Find somewhere we can settle down in safety.’
‘We cannot leave now, the birth is too near, and besides, Blackthorn won’t let us go. He sees Rubria as a bride for Reynard, remember?’
‘I know, said Dragus, ‘But we can’t stay here. I have to convince Blackthorn to let us go.’
‘How?
‘I don’t know,’ said Dragus, ‘But I’ll think of something. I have to.’
----
Dragus sat nervously in front of Blackthorn in the Chieftain’s hut. He had been invited to share a skin of wine with the leader, and they passed it around the circle of elders sat around the fire. He looked across the flames to stare at the man who held the fates of all three fugitives in his hands.
Blackthorn took a last swig from the skin and belched before staring into Dragus’s eyes.
‘So, Roman,’ he said, ‘The woman’s time is nearly here.’
‘It is,’ said Dragus, ‘The women of the tribe are with her. The child will be with us before the sun sets tomorrow.’
‘Good,’ said the Chieftain, ‘My son has been patient long enough. He will take her as his bride as soon as she has seen her first blood after the birth.’
‘Blackthorn,’ said Dragus, ‘You have indeed been very patient and we are grateful for your protection and hospitality, but I am not sure about the joining of your son and Rubria.’
‘Your worries are not my concern,’ said Blackthorn, ‘The union will go ahead as discussed.’
‘But she is a Roman Priestess,’ said Dragus, ‘A Vestal Virgin who knows nothing about such things.’
‘She will learn our ways,’ said Blackthorn, ‘And bear me many grandsons. What better fate could a woman have than to marry the son of a Chieftain?’
Dragus’s head bowed and he paused before speaking again.
‘There is more,’ he said, ‘Something you should know.’
Blackthorn waited for him to continue.
‘I think I know the child’s father.’
Blackthorn’s eyes raised in surprise.
‘You said she had lain with no man.’
‘And she hasn’t, at least not voluntarily, answered Dragus, ‘But she was raped and would not name the rapist because of who he is.’
‘Do you want me to kill this man?’ asked Blackthorn.
Dragus hid a smile.
‘That is a very appealing thought,’ said Dragus, ‘But I fear he is out of the reach of even your mighty sword. It is none other than Nero himself.’
‘The Roman king?’ laughed Blackthorn, ‘If this is so, then she was not raped. A king can take any woman he wants.’
‘Emperor,’ corrected Dragus, ‘And in our lands, rape is rape. We cannot do anything about it but there may be repercussions.’
‘Explain.’
‘The women are saying the child will be a girl. If this is true, then there may not be a problem, but if it is a boy, he will be the son of a Roman Emperor, and heir to the Empire. If this news gets out, the Romans will send an army to retrieve him, or kill him depending on who gives the order.’
‘Why should this concern me?’
‘They will take the boy and his mother away. You will be seen as an accomplice whatever the outcome and they will wipe your tribe out. Every man, woman and child will die or be sold into slavery. You and your family will be taken to Rome and paraded through the streets as a common criminal before being strangled in the Forum in front of the Senate.’
‘You do not know this.’
‘Trust me, I am Roman and know how it works.’
‘Then where does this leave us, Roman?’ asked Blackthorn, ‘I will not see my people die for the sake of one child.’
‘There is no need,’ said Dragus. ‘Let the woman recover and allow us to be on our way. No one need ever know we were here and you can go about your business as before.’