He’d never been to this part of the empire before, partly due to the fact that Cyrus’s villas were all in the east, which was his natural home, and Shelpa and Mardonius also shared this preference. So this was a new experience for him and already the landscape and climate were changing. Gone were the hot arid plains of the east and the dry heat that he was used to; instead it was cooler and moister, giving the local flora greater density and richness to its colour.
Cimon also found that he was becoming increasingly tempted to leave the road and to travel instead across the countryside, so he could blend in and become one with the landscape, but he resisted the urge until he came to the mountains, where he spent good while taking in the majesty of the view. The pull inside him to go and explore this wilderness was much stronger here, and it seemed to call to a part of him that had been confined and restricted in the city. This was a throwback to his life as a shepherd when he’d spent days with the flocks on Mount Helicon. The other had a similar desire, but it related to a need for freedom and autonomy. With both these urges working inside him, he decided that he’d had enough of civilisation and that it was time to discover the secrets of this strange and inhospitable terrain. The next morning at first light, once he’d fed on a disreputable merchant and had a meal inside him, Cimon stepped off the road and into the foothills of the Alps.
He’d meant to follow the heartbeat, but his own inclination to explore was far stronger. Realising that he wasn’t in any hurry, he decided to investigate this new world that appealed so strongly to his senses. Within a few days he’d found a dry cave to store his few possessions and there he shed his Roman clothes for garments worn by the local tribes and more fitting for the landscape.
He adapted to this primitive way of life with ease, due to a combination of the other soul’s previous experiences and the fact that he had extra speed and strength to help him, as well as heightened senses, which made it all so much easier. In fact, this type of lifestyle suited his predator nature, it satisfied the hunting urge inside him and he found to his delight that places inaccessible to humans were easily within reach for him and he took full advantage of this, exploring almost every part of the majestic mountains.
The only reason he had to return to civilisation was to feed. He’d tried to live on the animals, but it didn’t satisfy the hunger, though the boar came closer to humans then the other creatures, a fact he found amusing. But over the months he’d found that the less he saw of people, the more the hunger reduced, until it was nothing more than a small ache. However, abstaining for so long made him weak until eventually his strength and stamina diminished to such an extent that he was forced to find people so he could feed again.
It was on one such trip to Curia in the middle of the Alps that he came across a doctor who didn’t have his patients’ best interests at heart. Cimon watched the man for three days before deciding to kill him and he was immediately glad that he had, because he found amongst the man’s belongings several rare scrolls from the Hippocratic corpus on medicine as well as various medical implements, including several different bleeding knives. This was an unexpected bonus and Cimon had no qualms in gathering up the doctor’s possessions and claiming them as his own. Over the next few months as the winter settled in, he would sit in his cave reading, digesting and learning about Hippocratic medicine, which had fallen out of fashion in the empire. By the time the snows finally melted and the passes became useable again, he was ready to go back to the small towns and there he took on the persona of a doctor and treated people using the information he’d learnt in the books. He was sure that Cyrus would have approved of his preparation and caution and given his blessing to his new role in life and agreed that he was finally ready to be a healer.
He lived this way happily and contentedly in the mountains for three years, and only as the summer died in the third year did the first thoughts of returning to Rome stir inside him. But once they started they came with increasing intensity, driven mostly by a desire to see Shelpa again. The urge became stronger by the day, until it became a physical need. The bond between them that had lain dormant for so long had finally reawakened and wouldn’t be ignored. And nor did he want to disregard it, but he had to locate Callie first because he’d heard some worrying news on his last sortie into a town and he had to ensure that she was safe. Once he’d done that, then he could return to Shelpa and ruminate on his next move, but that could also depend on what he found out. .
He travelled swiftly following the pull of the heartbeat and soon realised that he was heading into Germania, a land inhabited by a hardy and dangerous people. They were an uncivilised and barbaric race, known for their courage and ferocity. If she’d been born west of the Rhine then it should be relatively easy finding her, as those tribes had accepted Rome, but Cimon was worried that she was in the area just east of the river where the General Germanicus was dealing out retribution on the Germanic tribes for the loss of three Roman legions over ten years earlier. He’d heard that whole communities were being put to the sword to punish their leader Hermann for leading the successful revolt against Rome. If Callie was in that area he’d have to get her out and to safety which would at least force the issue of how to introduce himself to her.
Fortunately his concerns were alleviated somewhat when he heard at the final settlement before he entered Germania that Germanicus had been recalled and the emperor Tiberius had decided to leave the border of the empire at the Rhine where Augustus had specified. For the moment the war of retribution was over, and the German tribes were safe. But he still needed to know where she was, especially given the fact that Germanicus was one of Tiberius’s heirs and would probably continue the war if he came to power.
***
Over the next few days Cimon travelled up through the wild but beautiful forests of Germania. He felt at peace here, it was gentler then the Alps, though still rough and rugged and scattered between the trees were gentle pastures and down lands. The people were different as well. He didn’t know the language, though he was obviously going to have to learn it, but it didn’t flow off the tongue and he tried in vain to pronounce the strange guttural sounds.
The tribes lived in small homesteads and communities, some farmed, but others hunted; in truth, they didn’t really have a lot in common and were not a unified people. The Romans called them the Hermunduri, but he soon realised that this could cover a whole host of different tribes, each with their own varying customs and societies, which made the task of finding Callie amongst these alien people even more difficult and daunting.
Eventually his journey led him out of the mountains and through fertile lowland plains, but one morning, out of nowhere, another mountain range emerged from the mist in the north and loomed before him. Cimon stopped in his tracks. For some reason that he couldn’t explain, he knew that he was close and that he’d find her amongst the valleys and gorges of those peaks.
Within the day the gentle foothills gave way to sheer drops and steep heavily wooded slopes. These crags were much smaller than the Alps but still imposing and impressive in their own right. They were also teeming with wildlife and full of pretty, fertile valleys, making this a secure and abundant place to live. Cimon liked the serenity and charm of the terrain. In many ways it reminded him of the mountains where he’d grown up: a mixture of firs, oak and beech trees, with the contrast of mountain pastures and dense woodland and nearly everywhere you looked there were rivers, streams and lakes. Water was everywhere, which made the land fecund in the valleys.
There were a few settlements in the area. These people did a mixture of farming and hunting and lived in small communities between the mountains. They seemed isolated from the other tribes he’d seen in Germania, but he’d little doubt that they were connected to and traded with the others, yet they didn’t seem as warlike, though the men still wore the warrior’s knot.
It was dusk when he came to her valley; he knew that he’d found the right place because he could feel her close by.
The light faded around him as he stood on the slope overlooking the vista, taking in all the features and landmarks of Callie’s new home. It was a medium sized place; the valley floor was about three-quarters of a mile across and two miles long, with a shallow but fast river running along the length to one side. They used this land for a mixture of farming and pasture, but he quickly realised that they must have relied mostly on hunting and game for their food.
The settlement was situated at one end and was quite small with only fifteen or so houses, and it was near another stream which flowed down the mountain into the main river. The sides of the valley nearest the river were steep, possibly too steep for a mortal to climb, but the other side was gently sloping and wooded. Curious, he decided to take a meander along the perimeter of the valley to see exactly how the land lay.
Cimon kept close to the sides until he came to the northern end, where several little gorges acted as footpaths to the land beyond. On closer inspection, the small stream was actually fast flowing and came down through the forest with some force. He noticed that there were faint traces of a footpath running alongside it leading up into the trees. Sensing that people didn’t use this path often, he followed it. After a gentle rise it drew closer to the stream until it stopped beside the calm waters of a plunge pool carved from the rock by the powerful waterfall above it. Scattered around the rocks adjacent to the waterfall and pool were the remains of flowers and wreaths. This was obviously a place of worship and sanctity, though he suspected it was rarely used. Cimon had no knowledge of the gods worshipped in this area of the world, but it paid to be courteous, so he made a swift prayer to whichever water-based deity dwelt in the vicinity and moved on.
From there he continued his amble around the valley. It was pitch black now, but for the last thirty-nine years that hadn’t been a problem for him. The slopes on the eastern side were gentler, with undulating hills covered with deciduous trees and long flower-studded grass. This had a gentle, less severe feel in contrast to the area around the waterfall and the northern edge. Towards the centre of the eastern side the land levelled out to create a plateau, from which various trails led off behind the closest mountains. But on the southern edge of the plateau there was a boundary of stones marking off a strangely steep slope from the rest of the land. Most of the stones were flat boulders, resembling offering places. Cimon looked up the slope, which was mostly deciduous, but near the top, he could make out densely packed firs. In his experience there was normally a reason why an area was sectioned off. Intrigued, he stepped over the boulders and climbed the slope.
The hill was much like the others, except there was no evidence of human intrusion. His suspicions had been correct; this place was definitely off limits. At the top was the cluster of unnaturally close-growing firs, which would have acted as a good deterrent for most people, but Cimon wasn’t frightened of any ancient and long-forgotten gods. He pushed through the conifers until he came to the construction at their centre. It was made up of several boulders placed on top of each other to create a rudimentary temple of some kind. And it wasn’t small, this was a large stone building, but nothing like the sort he was used to in Greece. This one was roughly thrown together as if part of nature itself. Nor did it have any carvings or ornate designs; it was simply rough unfinished stone with an entrance that gaped blackly at him, daring him to entre.
He pushed aside the branches and build-up of years of neglect and entered the cool darkness inside the building. It was so still, he could hear his breath. Cobwebs played against his face, pulled briefly then broke, almost as if they were the last defence of this ancient place. Surprisingly, the site was water tight and the compacted sandy soil beneath him was dry, though littered with dead pine needles. It was clear that no one had set foot in here for years yet the people in the valley below still venerated this hill, they just didn’t know why.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness inside, he saw that further back there was a heavy stone partition almost blocking the passage. Carefully he negotiated past it and saw that the passage split into four compartments, each partially sectioned off with the same heavy stones. The chambers were empty, anything or anyone that might have been interred in here was long gone and the place left to go back to nature.
Cimon concluded that the ancient construction would make an ideal place to store his medical books and he could use it as a base from which to observe Callie as she grew, in the event that he decided to stay. No one would come here, it was safely out of bounds to the people but still close to the settlement. He’d be able to come and go as he pleased. Feeding would be hard, but he could visit the other villages and the nearby lowland tribes. He had only a vague idea how far he was from a Roman town and the legions, but he suspected that the Rhine would only be a few days to the west.
Once he’d decided on his plan of action Cimon wasted no time in clearing out the tumulus and making a discreet path through the conifers and collecting wood to burn. After that he settled down to watch the residents of the settlement to see if he could identify Callie amongst them.
It was early morning when his waiting was finally rewarded. He’d found an old oak that gave him a perfect view of the settlement’s gate, and he was sitting in the branches watching the valley floor when a group of women came out and went down to the river to do their washing. It was a picture that could have been repeated in every part of the world. For a brief moment he was homesick for his childhood when he’d been small enough to remain with his mother, then later as an adult he’d watched from the lower pastures as the women had worked together and he’d tried to spot Callie in the group. He was doing the same now, but this time he didn’t know who he was looking for except that she was a child.
He scanned the group, but his attention kept coming back to a heavily pregnant blonde woman who had two daughters with her, the oldest was around seven, and the other no more than three. The eldest child had carried two wooden beaters with her and now she and the mother began to hit the clothes in the shallow water. He watched, fascinated; it had been the same in his homeland, the women would chat and gossip as they beat and swirled the materials in the water, then they’d stamp on them and then begin the process again. Eventually, when they were satisfied they’d lay them out with stones to dry in the sun.
Whilst the mother and daughter did the work, the littlest girl sat on a rock and dangled her feet, pulling pieces out a clump of wool. Suddenly her attention was caught by something and she jumped off the rock and began to wander away from her family. The girl made a clumsy attempt to grab the thing, which failed. Giggling, she continued moving further away from her mother. Cimon could see now that she was chasing a blue butterfly, and was so engrossed in her pursuit that she was now moving further from her family and safety. Something about the scene stirred a long forgotten memory from another time and place and his mind filled with a vision of Callie chasing white butterflies in the meadows near their cottage. For a moment the sense of loss almost overpowered him, and as he fought to control his feelings, Cimon knew that he’d found her. The gods couldn’t be clearer: she was here in this valley reborn as a little blonde girl who was now also heading into danger. He had to do something and fast, but just as he hit the ground ready to dash to her rescue, her mother also noticed.
“Inga! Inga.” Her shout carried across the valley, as well as some other words which he couldn’t understand. The girl stopped and turned around. Her mother called again and the little girl forgot the butterfly and went racing back in her clumsy childlike gait. Cimon watched at the edge of the valley, his presence still hidden by the trees, but the knuckles on his hand betrayed the turmoil he felt inside. Her name was Inga now, no longer Callie. Inga. And that meant that his wife was really now only a memory, a moment from the past that had faded from view.
Chapter Thirteen
It took several days to reach the Rhine, the going was relatively easy but as far as he could see, more or less the whole of Germania seemed to be covered wi
th forest. Not surprisingly the nearer he got to the Roman frontier, the more Romanised the tribes seemed to be. They had Roman weapons, even helmets, and by the time he reached the river they were openly drinking wine and he heard many using Latin and Greek terms in their everyday speech.
Once he was across the Rhine he was within the empire again and travelling became much easier, and because he’d kept in touch as promised he knew that his friends were in Rome, but he could also feel Shelpa and the ache for her became stronger the closer he came to the city. Eventually the urge became so powerful that he gave up trying to sleep and travelled through the nights as well as the days in an effort to reach her.
His eventual arrival at Cyrus’s villa wasn’t unexpected, as Shelpa too had felt his return. But nothing had prepared him for how he would feel when he saw her again; it was as if a madness possessed him similar in strength to his desire for her when she’d first merged him, but intensified by his genuine feelings for her. Cimon was initially embarrassed about his infatuation but Shelpa revelled in it, and Cyrus and Mardonius had expected this reaction as they’d always suspected that the bond between the two of them had been powerful and now after an absence it was clearly much stronger.
Eventually, as their ardour cooled, Cimon spent more time with Mardonius and Cyrus and he told them of his travels and experience of living in the mountains. In return, they brought him up to date with the news of the rest of the world and the political situation in Rome.
Cyrus was reading scrolls in the early morning sunshine when Cimon and Shelpa strolled in from a night’s entertainment in Rome. “Ah, so the hunters return. I trust it was a successful and pleasurable night for you both?” Cyrus called out to them.
“Like the old days,” Shelpa told him, draping her arm around Cimon, who responded by pulling her closer to him, so that they were almost intertwined.
“I can see.” Cyrus said. “Though maybe not quite; you’ve changed, Cimon.”