Chapter Four
Had it not been for the image of the child and the horses still locked in my mind, I would likely have wept when we finally arrived in Ninniya.
The aroma no longer came in wafts but hung heavy in the air, a putrid mixture of rotting flesh and ammonia that burned the back of my throat.
The houses lining the road were built of rough-hewn stone, their facades dated and weathered. Graffiti marked nearly every one.
Melitta had not lied. This village had been forgotten.
Yet my thoughts remained with the woman and her child.
We had not seen another village between here and there.
Did that mean they lived in Ninniya too?
It seemed plausible. And with a population so small, it was likely I would see them again.
Barely focusing on the derelict state of the buildings or the acrid air, I followed Morsimus to the place I was to call home.
Morsimus stopped at a low wall that surrounded a small garden. The wall itself had crumbled in so many places that any person with a half-decent stride could have stepped over it, but Morsimus pushed on the rotting wooden gate, which creaked and groaned before finally allowing us entrance.
“It is smaller than I imagined.” I spoke only to myself, yet Morsimus twisted around and snarled.
“You are the one who insisted we bring her. She can share your bed. Or sleep out in the garden for all I care.”
Melitta turned to me, the softest smile glinting in her eyes, and I drew on the strength of that gaze as I prepared myself for what was to come.
Despite its current state of disrepair, I could imagine the house had been beautiful in its time.
Outside, a fountain had long since stopped flowing, and green stains mottled the once-white marble.
Weeds had grown between the cracks in the flooring, though the tiles themselves were of good quality.
I was circling the space, trying to imagine its past life, when Morsimus called across from the house.
“Why are you still standing about? Open the door for me.”
I did as instructed, pushing hard against the wooden slats of the door, though they caught on the broken tiles behind them.
Dust and cobwebs thickened the air inside in equal measure.
The house was small compared to the one we had just left, though the lack of life inside made it feel empty, almost cavernous.
“I shall retire to bed,” Morsimus said, passing Melitta and me. “Sort out the mules. They are worth more than the pair of you combined.” With that, he left us.
I did not, as requested, go straight to the animals but continued to walk around the house.
I had not yet reached the courtyard when I stopped.
For an instant, it seemed as though the room to my left was burning, for the orange light that filtered through the window was so vivid the air appeared to be aflame.
That same glow illuminated motes of dust as they drifted lazily around the fireplace and revealed muted tones of paintwork on the walls.
I approached and was struck with the sudden urge to clean it.
My robe was already filthy from the journey, and I wiped at the thickly caked grime with the edge of the fabric.
As my robe turned black with dirt, the evidence of heavy brushstrokes appeared on the wall.
Whether it was luck or divine intervention, I do not know, but it was his face that I cleared first.
The image of Ares, god of war, glimmered in the amber light. His eyes stared straight out at me from the wall, and for a split second, I believed it was not a painting of the god I was staring at but the god himself.
Looking back now, I realize how ridiculous the thought had been. His eyes look nothing like that.
* * *
By the time Melitta and I had seen to the animals and carted our belongings into the house, nightfall was nearly upon us and, with it, a heavy exhaustion.
Only two sleeping chambers were in a usable condition: a small one by the kitchen and another far larger room to which Morsimus had retired the moment we arrived.
Seemingly unconcerned by the general disrepair or the state of the mattress, he had stretched himself wide to ease his injuries.
There was not even a scrap of the bed onto which I could fold myself.
Retreating, I curled up with my servant as a child would their mother. The weight of the journey sent me swiftly into a dreamless sleep. I was lost in a deep slumber when the first scream rang out into the night.
My eyes snapped open. My heart raced.
“Did you hear that?”
The old woman groaned.
“It will be a fox. Or a cat. Go back to sleep, mistress.”
My pulse continued its percussive beat. “No, I do not think that was an animal. I think it was a person.”
A moment later, the cry came again. This time, there was no mistaking it.
“It is likely a child. Or a woman in childbirth,” Melitta said, anticipating my response. “Yes, that is the sound. It is a woman in childbirth. I made similar screams.”
The sounds did not continue, however, as I would have expected from such things. They ended there, leaving a silence prickling at the night.