“Inga!” Her mother called to her from a distance away. “Come down now. You’re not to go up there.”
Inga glanced around briefly then looked back. He put his finger to lips again and smiled, then he turned and slipped back into the shadows with the wolf trailing after him.
She swung around and skipped down the slope. “Sorry, Mama, I found some more clumps and they were better than the ones in the pasture,” she replied, pretending that nothing had happened and she held out her basket for her mother to inspect.
***
It was hard to read by firelight, even for him, so reluctantly Cimon put the scroll down and looked into the flames. Today he’d finally seen Inga; she was now Inga to him and not Callie. It was a start, though now he wondered how he could make further contact without her being scared. At least she’d kept quiet to her mother and not run away, so she was possibly braver then he gave her credit for; she was German after all, and these people were known to be tough and fearless.
For a few moments he watched the flames dancing as they caressed and consumed the wood. She didn’t look like Callie. She was blonde, with the flaxen hair that was so common here, but so rare everywhere else. And her eyes were blue now, not dark and mischievous as they had been, but a pale blue, like a winter’s sky. It wasn’t fair to compare Inga with Callie; she was a different person with a new personality. Each lifetime would be unique, with different experiences and challenges to shape the character, that was the way of things, but it would still be hard to adjust to this new body and completely different girl.
Suddenly a wolf howled uncomfortably close to the tumulus. Cimon glanced at Wolf who had been resting quietly by the fire; she was agitated now and sniffing the air. The distant wolf howled again and this time Wolf stood and whined. Cimon understood what was happening, she was older now and almost fully grown and she’d flourished during the winter, but spring was all around them and now it was calling to Wolf. He smiled at his friend.
“Go on,” he told her quietly, “find yourself a mate, have cubs and live a long and happy life.” Once again the haunting cry carried around the mountains. She looked at him licked her lips and whined again, clearly reluctant to leave him.
“Go on. I’ll be fine. I’ll be here if you get bored. Go on!” he urged her then closer still the call came, the yearning and longing all too evident in the cry. Wolf regarded him for a moment longer, then trotted away for a few strides. She turned and looked back. Cimon nodded, encouraging her to go, then she spun around and disappeared into the darkness under the trees.
Cimon leant back against the old rock. He was alone now, as he’d been before. There was nothing to keep him here now. The hunters were doing well and providing their own food for their families. Wolf was off to make her own life, there was nothing keeping him here and he was hungry for essence and physical company. Wolf’s departure decided him; he would set off for the river and the empire at first light.
For too long he’d denied the part of him that was Rabisu, and it was this side of him now that wanted to get up and go back to Rome and to Shelpa, if she was there. They could lock themselves away in a room and not come out for a year. For a whole season he’d been controlled and disciplined, living from the smaller human section of himself, waiting and watching for a girl who might never be his, for a love that was long lost. There was plenty of time to recant and seek redemption. He’d overreacted to what he’d seen in Estakhr, life was choice and he could choose not to live like that, in fact he already had.
Cimon knew that this was the hunger talking, he still wasn’t sure what he wanted, but the gods had given him this opportunity and he had to explore it and not simply walk away. So tomorrow he’d go to the Rhine and satisfy the need inside him, then after a few weeks he might be able to make a more considered judgement.
***
Inga carefully opened the leather bag and put her hand in to feel the contents. This was where she kept all her precious items, stowed secretly away in a corner of the house. Her fingers felt a whole manner of strange things, which she mentally identified. Finally she found what she was after, cautiously pulled it out and sat on her haunches to examine the object in the poor light. It was a small blue rock from the mountain streams, which had been strung onto a finely cut strip of leather. She’d found the rock one day already with a hole in it at the washing place. She’d asked people, but no one had recognised it, so she’d claimed it for her own. She tucked the bag back into its hidden crevice and wound the strap around her hand. Smiling to herself she left the house carrying her breakfast in her other hand.
Cimon loped down the slope, it was later then he’d hoped and he was keen to begin his journey west. Normally Wolf came in and woke him with either licks or growls depending how deep he was sleeping, but today she hadn’t come, which meant that she really was off on her own adventure.
Abruptly he stopped his descent; at the bottom of the slope standing by the stones was Inga. She was singing the song they had made up for him and holding something in her hands. Carefully he slid next to a tree so he could watch what she was doing. After finishing the song, she knelt down and said something. He could only catch a few words, but she seemed to be thanking him. Eventually she left and walked back to the settlement. Curious, he jogged down a little and studied where she’d been standing. Something was sitting on the stones. Not a honey cake, but something very small and blue. This was completely different to any other offering they had made before to him.
He checked the area for people, then quickly descended the rest of the slope. Carefully he picked up the stone and leather strap. It was crudely made by Roman standards but not without charm, and amongst these people it probably had some value. It was obviously precious to Inga and yet she’d decided to give it to him after their brief encounter yesterday. Such a generous gift deserved recognition. After a moment’s hesitation he slipped the strip around his neck and clasped the stone, until slowly it began to pick up some warmth from the meagre heat of his body. His journey to the Rhine could wait, Inga deserved something in return and he’d just the thing in mind.
***
It was almost dusk and the night was closing in, it would be too late soon, but she still had a few minutes to race to the forest and check to see if Goodman had found her present. Inga ran quickly, holding her skirt above her knee. Mama wouldn’t be pleased if she caught her out here now, nor would Papa, especially as the wolves had been closer last night. Maybe tonight they would enter the valley despite Goodman’s presence? It was silly and childish to think like that, even though it was eerie in the trees and the wind was getting up. There was a god here now so she shouldn’t be scared of the night creatures and ghosts because Goodman would protect her.
Ahead at the base of Goodman’s mountain, the pasture was still bathed in light due to the early spring leaves. Thankful, she raced towards the boundary stones and looked to see if he’d taken the token. With delight she realised it was gone. But then her heart sank; there was nothing there in return. But what really had she been expecting? His gratitude would be the arrival of more food later in the year when they needed it. That was what she knew logically, but in her heart that wasn’t how it should’ve worked. She’d given to him and in return he should give to her. Despite her age, she felt herself pouting in disappointment, then remembered the story of the witch who cut off the bottom lips off children who sulked. It was only a children’s story, but it was getting dark and she didn’t want to take any chances.
It was better to be grateful, so she sank down next to the stones and said a small prayer, but as she whispered the words, something caught her eye on the other side of the stones. Something white, in fact two things. Hastily she looked around, no one was watching, so she stepped up onto the stones and jumped down the other side.
They were flowers. Small delicate spring flowers from a plant she’d not seen before. Very little was flowering, yet somehow Goodman had managed to find these blooms. He’d left them
here for her, but as they were so delicate, the wind had blown them off and onto the ground, and then they’d been protected by the stones so that they hadn’t blown away. She picked them up and held them to her nose. She couldn’t really smell anything, but she could pretend. Inga grinned happily. The god had given her a special present that no one else had. She had a secret communication with him which she wasn’t going to tell anyone about, not even Helda. Holding the flowers tightly to her chest, but careful not to ruin them, she ran for home before they closed the gate.
Chapter Fifteen
The room was stifling, and completely airless. The villas were designed to keep the heat of the day out, but at night there was no air to breathe and the single, high window was completely useless. Shelpa arose from the bed and slipped on a veil. It was too hot for a cloak, but she preferred to cover up in case any servants were around.
She walked quietly out of the room, through the atrium and into the courtyard garden. She was lonely. Cyrus was back in Rome and Mardonius had gone to join him a few weeks ago leaving her here in Carthage. She’d occupied herself well enough with the beautiful young men that hung on her every word, but it wasn’t the same. She missed Cimon, her beloved created child who was becoming her perfect companion. She didn’t like to think about how she nearly killed him; it embarrassed her to remember how foolish she’d been to judge a man by his face and outer appearance alone. Quietly she trailed her hands through the water of the fountains whose cheery splashes broke the stillness of the night. She ached for him, longing for his touch and she certainly craved the sweetness of his essence. But realistically, she told herself that she probably missed having another Rabisu around to share her bed and life. Humans were only so good up to a point.
She knew Cimon was alive but she had no idea where he was. She’d no feeling for that at all, not since he’d left her in Estakhr and continued his wild times. She didn’t like to reflect on the past, but she couldn’t help regretting their decision to visit the city. She’d heard about the lifestyle of the Rabisu there, so she’d backed Mardonius in urging that they go. She’d been convinced that the Cimon who had returned to her, a more confident and well-adapted version of the one who’d left, would enjoy the lifestyle on offer. But she’d miscalculated. He and Cyrus had reacted badly and had soon left. Mardonius said that it was because they still had some traces of humanity, but Shelpa had believed that it was probably more than that. In their decadent lifestyle where their every want was seen to, they’d lost their true nature. They had it too easy, the challenge and the excitement was gone, until eventually even she had become tired of it and left.
Now Carthage bored her, but thankfully she’d already made plans to leave and find somewhere else to honour with her presence. She shifted suddenly; there was a strange sensation inside her, one that she’d forgotten and had put aside long ago. It was a feeling that she’d craved for so many years that it was hard to believe she was actually sensing it again. Agis, her first child. She could feel him, hovering on the brink of her awareness. Instinctively she threw her consciousness out to him, seeking to know his distance from her. He was close, closer then he’d ever been before and coming closer. A shudder of excitement ran through her body. Her glorious, beautiful boy was coming back and would soon be reunited with her.
He’d been gone for almost a hundred years. At least the last forty-five had been easier with Cimon and she’d put her difficult first child to the back of her mind, but the initial fifty years had been hard, she’d pined for her first melded child despite the volcanic nature of their relationship.
Though she yearned to be looked after and cared for, Agis could be jealous and dominating, he liked to be in charge and had turned increasingly controlling as he’d become melded. Maybe travelling by himself had made him more independent and accepting of her desire for more freedom than he’d been before.
Shelpa decided that she would change her plans and stay to meet him and then, well then, who knew what would happen after that? All that mattered was that she was ready for the return of her wonderfully pitiless created child.
***
Inga didn’t want to open her eyes. If she did then the magic place in her dreams would disappear and she’d be left in her real world. A world without the sunshine and happiness of love. Forcing her eyes shut she tried to fall back to her dream world. A place she often visited when asleep. She willed herself to be lying without her clothes, wet from the river, with the man she loved lying next to her talking softly, telling her stories whilst she listened avidly to his gentle voice. For a moment she was back, the sun was shining down, drying her naturally. Next to her, her husband had his back to her and was talking to an animal. Suddenly the dog shook itself and showered them with water from its coat. In her dream she cried out, but was soon laughing. She was happy, happier here than she’d ever been in her real life. But despite her best efforts the dream faded and she was back in the furs with Helda snoring in her ear. Reluctantly she opened her eyes; her mother was preparing breakfast, which was what had woken her. It seemed you couldn’t fight your own body.
Summer was fading, the leaves were a deep green and a sign that soon they would wither and die then winter would rule the mountains once again. It meant that hunger and starvation were only months away, so now was the time to stock up and prepare for the hardship ahead, which was why Inga followed the other women on their quest for the food from the forest. Today they were on the lookout for mushrooms. At this time of year they could be found in the fir forest, growing under the bracken and camouflaged by the dead flora that lay scattered on the forest floor.
Foraging for mushrooms was a one of the more pleasant things about gathering food. It was done in near silence as the women concentrated on the ground, peering intensely at every square inch so as not to miss any stray fungi. A simple rule had been beaten into Inga, that if you found one, there was nearly always another nearby. Inga had good eyes for it; the youngsters always had the advantage, because their eyes weren’t as tired or weak. Inga could concentrate and not be distracted and she prided herself on being one of the best pickers and that meant she was often excused from other chores to do this instead.
No one was on the higher ground away from the village, so she made her way to that area scanning the ground as she did so, just in case any mushrooms popped out at her. Once she was satisfied that this was far enough away from everybody else she began to search in earnest.
Inga was fully occupied on her task and didn’t notice at first the dull thud of a rabbit landing close by to where she was looking, but she saw the next one because it landed directly where she was looking. She cried out in surprise and shock, which made all the other women look up. To their amazement another rabbit came through the air and once again landed right at Inga’s feet almost on top of the other one.
There was silence for a few moments as the stunned women realised the implications of what was happening. Inga turned bewildered to her mother, who stared speechlessly back. It was Mutta who finally took charge of the situation. She approached Inga now, who was still standing wide-eyed in shock.
“Inga, I believe that these rabbits are for you,” she told her calmly. “Pick them up, child.”
Inga glanced over to her mother, who nodded. Nervously Inga bent down to pick up the three limp rabbits.
“Is it Goodman?” one of the other women asked
Mutta nodded. “Who else?” she replied.
“But he’s not been seen for months. Does that mean he’ll help us in the winter?”
Mutta shook her head. “I have no idea. But I would imagine that this means he’s back with us. Inga, can you think of any reason why he gave these to you?”
Inga bit her lip and frowned. Of course she could but she hadn’t told anyone about seeing the god and exchanging gifts with him. She could lie and say she had no idea, but Mutta would be watching and she always had a way of finding out things and of knowing if you lied or not.
She gu
lped nervously then admitted quietly, “I saw him in the spring once. He was watching us look for herbs. He saw me looking and he told me to keep quiet so I did.”
There was muttering from several women and a few awed glances.
“Told you?” Mutta asked. “Did he speak to you then?”
Inga shook her head. “No, he covered his mouth like we do when we want someone to be quiet.”
Mutta nodded. “So he knows you, so maybe this is a reward for you keeping quiet?” She paused, then added, “Next time, Inga, if you have any contact please tell me. I don’t know who this god is, so I need to know as much as possible if we are to honour him properly.”
“I’m sorry.” The shame erupted out of Inga and brought tears to her eyes. She’d let Mutta and all her people down.
“No, Inga, don’t be sorry. You did the right thing. You kept your word to a god, but if you encounter him again then I should like to know. Sabine, take Inga back to the settlement and prepare your rabbits for dinner.”
Inga held out a rabbit. “Mutta, you have one. It’s only fair.” But the wise woman smiled and shook her head.
“They were for you, Inga. Best not to give them away.” Inga nodded and glanced at her mother who seemed pleased by her gesture but gladder still for the extra rabbit.
***
He was coming. She could feel him coming closer and closer. He’d be here soon and she’d finally be reunited with her first child, her beautiful Agis. Shelpa could hardly contain her excitement. She’d prepared meticulously for this moment. Cyrus wouldn’t have recognised this new organised and orderly version of herself. She’d arranged for only a few slaves to be present in the villa, those she trusted, and she’d ensured that all the food was paid for in advance and the rent, so there was nothing to interrupt them for as long as was needed.
Though she’d been expecting his knock on the outer door, it still made her jump. She adjusted her gown nervously and took a deep breath to steady herself on the stone bench in the garden. Her acute hearing could pick up the voices at the door and her heart fluttered when she recognised his heavily accented Latin.