The Divining (5 page)

     As the two greedy traders fought over her like dogs over a bone, Sebastianus returned to his troubled thoughts and the reason for his urgency to depart. It had nothing to do with his regular commerce along the Rhine. Sebastianus Gallus was in a race to reach the farthest ends of the earth, where it was rumored that ships sailed over the edge and horses galloped into frothy mists, never to be seen again.

     Sebastianus was in a race to win the coveted imperial
diploma
to escort a caravan to distant China. And what made him anxious on this spring morning filled with noise and smoke and sunshine was that he was competing against four other traders, men personally known to him as good, solid citizens who traded fairly and deserved the China route as much as he did. But Emperor Claudius was going to award the
diploma
to only one man.

     Each trader was to complete his regular trade route while at the same time distinguishing himself in some endeavor. Sebastianus knew that his four competitors were going to succeed in making themselves stand out in Claudius's eyes. Badru the Egyptian had struck south for Africa, taking cheap clothes and trinkets to exchange for tortoise shell and ivory, and Sebastianus
knew that Badru had the opportunity to bring back a rare beast for the arena. Sahir the Hindu was on his way to the southeast to pick up perfume and incense and was likely to find priceless books for the emperor. Adon the Phoenician was heading to Spain with pepper and cloves and would no doubt pick up vintage wine that Claudius had a specific taste for. And Gaspar the Persian, whose trade route carried him into the Zagros Mountains, would surely find a fabled rare flower with powerful aphrodisiac properties (everyone knew how desperate Claudius was to please his young wife, Agrippina). But Sebastianus Gallus the Spaniard was following his usual northward route to trade for amber and pewter, salt and fur. What could
he
find in the Rhineland that would catch Emperor Claudius's eye and persuade him to award Gallus the coveted
diploma?

     What troubled him further was the rumor that Roman legions, under the command of Gaius Vatinius, were marching north to engage renegade Barbarians in a major battle. Although war could be good for business, in this case it could hurt Sebastianus's chances to win the
diploma.

     He glanced impatiently at Timonides, who was trying to apply a copper protractor to a zodiacal chart, but with little success. Sebastianus wondered if he should seek the services of another astrologer. Time was slipping through his fingers!

     Gallus was eager to make a name for himself. His father and grandfather and uncles had all carved new trade routes, distinguishing themselves, adding prestige to the already noted and respected Gallus family. Now Sebastianus wanted to prove himself by securing the China route for Emperor Claudius. It was the last unknown frontier, the last chance to carve a new route while at the same time earning the singular distinction of being the first man from the west to reach the imperial palace in China.

     "I will take you all the way to Colonia! This man does not go beyond Lugdunum, he will abandon you there! I have a nice carriage, only three other passengers inside!"

     At the sound of Hashim's barking voice, Sebastianus turned in surprise. The young lady was going all the way to Colonia?

     He watched as Kaptah busily worked his abacus, a portable calculating device made of copper and beads, used by merchants, engineers, bankers, and tax collectors. The stocky Syrian was tallying the girl's fare by mile and
food, throwing in extra fees here and there for water, the use of a donkey, even a place by the nightly campfire.

     "Robbery!" shouted Hashim, his swarthy face turning purple. "Dear lady, with me you will not ride on a donkey but in a cart, and for that I will charge you only a slightly higher fee."

     The young woman looked from one to the other in confusion, and when they saw her turn to the right, to glance down the row of tents and compounds that were all collected under a dusty sign that said GERMANIA INFERIOR, they both started talking at once, declaring that all other traders heading north would gouge her for every cent she had and then sell her to the Barbarians as a slave.

     Seeing that the girl was at the mercy of these two vultures, both of whom Gallus knew very well—unscrupulous to the marrow, each of them—he spoke up. "My brothers!" he said congenially, striding up. "I have always noticed that the louder you both get, the bigger your lies."

     He turned to the young lady and, before he could say another word, received a shock. As she turned to him, he glimpsed beneath the modest veil light-colored hair and blue eyes. She was holding a corner of her veil up to her chin, as Roman girls were taught, never to fully cover the face, but giving the effect of being ready to cover should the situation call for it. Sebastianus stared at the oval face drawing down to a delicately pointed chin, arched brows, small nose. But what arrested him most were her eyes.

     He was momentarily speechless as he was remembering the time he had visited the famed Blue Grotto of Capri. Her eyes were the color of that lagoon.

     "These men are not to be trusted," he said with a smile, casting the two men a warning glance when they started to protest. "They are rogues—lovable—but rogues all the same. If you wish, I can help you find an honest trader who will see to your safe passage to where you are going. What is your destination?" he asked, thinking that surely he had heard wrong.

     But she replied, "Colonia," and he heard a confident tone, a strong voice, and then he looked around again for her companions. Perhaps they had yet to arrive, most likely because they had so much baggage to bring along for the wealthy young lady.

     "How many are in your party?" he asked.

     Ulrika looked up into the face of the stranger who had come to her aid. He stood a head taller than herself, the morning sun catching bronze highlights in his hair. He had a strong jaw, a straight and narrow nose, with a beard that was so closely cropped it was barely more than a shadow on his chin. Ulrika suspected he was not Roman because his Latin was lightly accented, as if it were not his mother tongue. Then she saw, lying upon his broad chest, suspended on a leather thong and resting against the white linen of his knee-length tunic, a scallop shell the size of her hand. She recognized it as a mollusk known to proliferate along the northwestern shore of Spain, and she had heard that Galicians wore these shells to remind them of home, and to show pride in their race and heritage.

     She wondered briefly about this Spaniard. His brow seemed permanently furrowed, as if a problem had entered his head long ago and had yet to be solved. Not a man at peace with himself, she thought, or with the world. Impressions rushed at her: although his smile was easy, he was angry, but at whom or what she could not guess; his gaze was open, but he gave the impression of being guarded; and despite his relaxed stance, he seemed to be holding himself tightly, as if afraid of losing control. Had something—or someone—hurt him long ago?

     "It is just myself," she replied, taking a small step back to put space between herself and this man, turning to look down the rows of camps. When she had left home that morning with such determination to reach the Rhineland, she had not anticipated difficulty in finding a party with whom to travel. Who could she trust?

     "You travel to Colonia on your own?" the Galician asked in surprise. "But it is such a hostile place for a lone girl to visit."

     She brought her eyes back to his—wondering where she had seen irises so green. "I have family there."

     His frown deepened. "Still," he said. "A girl traveling on her own."

     "Travel is not new to me. I was born in Persia, and from the age of three, when I left that distant city, I have traveled the world. I have seen Jerusalem and Alexandria. I have even crossed the Great Green on a ship."

     "That may well be," he said, "but the world will only see a vulnerable female without protection. You will need to find a family that is going north
and willing to have you join them, or a group of females. Unfortunately, my own caravan consists only of men, and I cannot be responsible for your safety at all times." He smiled. "My name is Sebastianus Gallus and I will help you find an honest guide to take you to Colonia. I am acquainted with nearly every man in the caravan trade, the honest ones as well as the cheats."

     "I am Ulrika," she said, "and I welcome your kind assistance."

     When Hashim and Kaptah, who had watched the exchange in curiosity, began to protest Sebastianus's stealing their customer, he shot them a look that silenced them. As he started to escort the young woman away, with the two traders accusing each other of causing the loss of a profitable fare, Sebastianus glanced back at his compound where Timonides the star-reader was still cradling his head and moaning.

     Following his line of sight, Ulrika saw the fat, bloated man with a ring of white hair around his bald head. "What is wrong with him?" she asked.

     "We do not know. He is my astrologer and he is unable to cast a horoscope."

     Ulrika hesitated. She was in a hurry to start her journey northward, but the man was clearly in distress. "Perhaps I can help."

     A
S THE STAR-CHARTS SWAM
before his blurry eyes, Timonides thought he was going to burst into tears. Never had he known such despair, such bleakness. The stars were his life, his soul, and the messages contained within them were more precious to him than his own blood. He had dedicated his entire life to the heavens and interpreting the secrets written therein, but now look at him! Unable to distinguish Cassiopeia from Leo!

     Lifting his head, hoping to dislodge the pain but feeling it only worsen, he saw his master walking toward him and he seemed to be accompanying a young lady.

     Timonides momentarily forgot his pain as he watched Sebastianus take the girl's travel packs and water and food bags and shoulder them himself, leaving her free to hold her veil modestly in place—a skill known to Roman women that never ceased to amaze Timonides.

     Strange girl, he thought as they drew near. By the drape and color of her dress and
palla
, she was patrician, yet she had been carrying her own packs. No doubt she was off to visit family, maybe attend a birth, for that was what motivated most women to travel. To his surprise, she stepped away from Sebastianus and approached.

     "Is it a toothache, sir?"

     He stared up into sky-blue eyes framed by hair the color of a young deer. Great Zeus, where had his master found this one? "Of the teeth remaining to me, mistress," Timonides said, "none give me grief, thank the gods. What ails me, miss, is my jaw."

     "I am Ulrika," she said gently, "may I take a look?" To his surprise, she took the seat opposite him and, reaching out, gently palpated his jaw and neck with soft fingertips. "Is the pain worse when you eat?"

     "That it is," he said in dismay. Timonides was fat for a reason. While astrology was the focus of his spiritual and religious life, food was the center of his mortal life. Timonides lived to eat. From his morning breakfast of wheat cakes and honey, to his late-night supper of pork fried in oil with mushrooms, his day consisted of chewing and swallowing and filling his belly in a continual feast of taste and texture sensations. When not eating, he was reminiscing on his last meal and anticipating his next. Timonides would give up women before he would give up food. And now, to be unable to eat! Was life even worth living?

     "I believe I can help you," the young woman said in a voice soft yet confident.

     "I doubt that!" he cried in misery. "My master took me to a doctor in the city who wrapped my neck and jaw in a hot mustard poultice that resulted in a burning rash. The second doctor prescribed poppy wine that sent me into deep sleeps. The third extracted my back teeth. No more doctors!"

     He was wary as she continued to gently probe, but he had to admit that her touch was gentle and light, not like the ham-fisted doctors who had pried his mouth open so wide he thought his jaw would snap off.

     When her finger touched a sensitive spot below his jaw, and he cried out, she nodded solemnly and asked Sebastianus to bring something sweet or sour for Timonides to eat. Sebastianus stepped inside a tent and returned
with a small, yellow fruit, handing it to Ulrika, who recognized it as a costly fruit imported from India. Instead of peeling it, she slipped the entire lemon into the old Greek's mouth and said, "Bite down."

     He did so with much protesting—didn't this girl know that lemons were a medicine, not food?—and while he struggled not to spit the sour thing out, Ulrika's fingers were immediately at the spot below his jaw, massaging and pushing mercilessly.

     Sebastianus watched in fascination as saliva and spittle flowed from his astrologer's mouth, while those fingertips manipulated and probed until, after an agonizing moment, the girl said, "You may spit the lemon out."

     Timonides did not need further encouragement. He spat saliva and lemon pulp into the girl's hand.